Jedi Dreaming
by ardavenport
Summary: While Qui-Gon is away on a mission, Obi-Wan learns of the deceptive nature of dreams and that even Jedi cannot discern imagination from possibility.
1. Chapter 1

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 1 - - -**

Obi-Wan Kenobi walked in darkness. Without light, the gloom weighted down the interior of the vast Jedi Temple. Not even the huge open hall around him could contain so much darkness. Unlike space, which was crisp and black, this sooty emptiness smothered light and sound. His boots hardly made a sound on the patterned floor.

Obi-Wan had no idea where the light had gone. Perhaps the power was down. Perhaps the lights had been buried. He did not feel any darkness in the Force. No anger, no fear, no rage. They might have been buried, too. But the Force was there, thick as the air.

He kept walking through the darkness and through the Force.

Ahead of him, his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, sat cross-legged on a meditation platform. Somewhere around them in the murky shadows was a great, columned hall, but they were alone amidst all that darkness.

Eyes closed, Qui-Gon serenely meditated, his long brown hair falling down on the shoulders of his dark robe. Obi-Wan noted the small flecks of gray in his hair and beard. The Force was strong around Qui-Gon like a halo of invisible light that instead of pushing back the darkness, melded into it.

Obi-Wan wondered if he should sit, under his Master's feet at the base of the pedestal, and join him. He timidly stepped forward and found it more and more difficult to move, as if the air were becoming more and more solid.

Was Qui-Gon so still and quiet because he couldn't move?

Suddenly alarmed, Obi-Wan pushed his hand forward.

Qui-Gon's eyes opened. They were dead.

The deep blue eyes that stared at nothing had sunken back, whatever spark of life should have been there had fled. The pale skin had gone bloodless and grayish. A slight breeze stirred the corpse's dry hair.

Obi-Wan started awake.

His heart pounding, he looked around at the dim shapes in his darkened room. The usual tiny lights on the wall com on the far wall shone steadily. Only starlight over Coruscant from his holo-window illuminated the room's sparse furnishings.

Obi-Wan sat up and activated the lights from the panel by the stand at the head of his sleep couch. Calming his breathing and his rapidly beating heart, he closed his eyes. He had felt it, the Force in the dream, which meant that this night terror had not been just a dream at all.

His initial shock melted into dread. In the Force, all visions had meaning. The trick was in discerning what that was. Even the wisest Jedi Master would not say what. Obi-Wan had always been taught that visions were to be accepted with contemplation and meditation only. Every Master, including Qui-Gon, always warned against the temptation of acting on them. This was not considered dark, but foolish and possibly dangerous, since the meaning of any vision, large or small, shifted with any action inspired by it. At most one waited for the moment of the vision to come before doing anything. If it ever came.

Up until now, Obi-Wan had never been seriously tempted to stray from this sage advice. No matter how personal, he had always followed his elders' instructions and with time, he had seen that letting a Force-related dream-vision pass worked best. He had never understood why the warnings were so dire, as if Padawans were going to panic from the first hint of death, injury or worse. But now, Obi-Wan could not separate himself from what he felt any more than he could if Qui-Gon were in mortal peril right in front of him.

Obi-Wan did not know where Qui-Gon was.

His Master was on a secret mission for the Jedi Council. He had been gone for several days and just that evening Master Yoda had told him that the mission was being extended. When Obi-Wan had asked how Qui-Gon was, Yoda had only replied that the mission was going well.

Obi-Wan stood and paced on the bare floor by his sleep couch. He could not simply sit and meditate over this. As a Jedi, he was also supposed to follow the will of the Force as Qui-Gon phrased it, but where was it going?

He had sensed no violence, no evil, no malevolence, only death. In one eye-blink he had known what Qui-Gon being dead would feel like. That solid, welcome presence would be gone into the Force, the flesh would be cold, an empty reminder of what had been.

Coming to a decision, Obi-Wan hastily dressed, minimally only in boots, pants, tunic and robe. He left his room. He hurried through the dimly lit corridor to the lift tubes. Even the earliest risers were still asleep. Leaving the residence area, he headed through the darkened halls and long corridors of the Temple to Mission Ops room under the Jedi Council Spire. Someone was always on duty there.

He passed through the outer rooms with their vacant data terminals and blank screens to the main Mission Ops area. A few blue-metal droids clicked and swivelled their heads at their com stations.

"Yes?" The older woman at a large terminal looked at him inquiringly. Her lined face was crimson, her long bluish-brown hair hung down behind her from where it was tied on the top of her head. Obi-Wan bowed.

"Master," he began. He did not know her name, but it was always safe for a Padawan to address any adult Jedi as 'Master' no matter what their actual rank. "I wish to inquire about the status of my Master, who has been sent on a mission by the Council. I was told that the mission has been extended and I wished to confirm that he was well. And send a message, if I am allowed."

She tilted her head, her expression curious, but she apparently found no fault in his request.

"Your Master's name?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn."

She sat back, clearly recognizing it. She kept her eyes on him as she tapped out commands at her terminal. Her eyes flicked to the screen before she cleared it. Obi-Wan kept his eyes forward, his arms respectfully hidden before him in the sleeves of his robe.

"You were told that this mission was very sensitive to the Council?" she inquired.

"Yes, but I was concerned . . ."

The older Jedi slowly shook her head at him and his words trailed off.

"I cannot send any message whatsoever without the Council's approval. And I must report your request to them."

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, wishing that he at least knew what she had seen at her terminal, but his view was blocked.

"You were concerned about your Master, at this hour of the morning?" she asked. He lifted his head and nodded. Her pale blue eyes looked at him carefully. Obi-Wan felt a slight, tenuous pressure on his cheeks, his forehead; she looked deeply at with the Force.

"You may leave now."

With nothing else he could do, Obi-Wan bowed and turned away.

"Padawan." He stopped, looking back. "The mission was extended because it was going very well. Your Master himself reported that. There were no hazards." He saw a glint of sympathy in her eyes before she turned away, back to her data screens. Grateful, Obi-Wan hurried out.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

"The soil here was brought from our homeworld," their barefoot guide explained. Obi-Wan Kenobi and the other Jedi he had come with had also removed their boots as a courtesy. Their four Togruta guides continued to describe the garden reception area of their embassy as the whole group strolled around the plants and over the grassy ground. Obi-Wan minded what the embassy staff told their Jedi visitors about their world and people. But he only observed and he did not ask any questions.

He could not entirely put out of his mind his thoughts on his nightmare. He had tried to recapture it in meditation, but he only touched the memory with no new insights. Seeking his elder's counsel, Obi-Wan had left a message with Master Yoda early that morning. The reply had invited him to meet, after his seminar of Coruscant embassy visits. Their group of Padawans and Jedi Knights had three more embassies and one consulate to go to before returning to the Jedi Temple.

One could spend a lifetime visiting the thousands and thousands of diplomatic missions on the Republic's capital world and still not see them all. The Jedi, the protectors of the peace in the galaxy, received invitations from many of them all the time. So, the Order combined their diplomatic training with their responses. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been assigned to the current rounds of embassy visits before his Master had been sent on his mission.

The Assistant to the Ambassador invited them to a light meal and the elder Jedi Master in their group thanked him. They were almost always offered food and they always accepted. Obi-Wan, the only Padawan in the group not accompanied by his Master, followed the others to another room and suppressed his own unease over Qui-Gon's absence.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

"Grave this dream was," Yoda folded his clawed hands before him. "A vision from the Force you say it was?"

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded. They sat on separate meditation pedestals in a private chamber lit only by the daylight that came in through the slatted shutters over the windows.

"I am sure, Master Yoda. It was very clearly the Force, not just a dream," he stated earnestly, leaning toward Yoda.

"Meditated on this you have?"

"Yes. This morning." He lowered his head, staring down at his tightly clasped hands in his lap. He relaxed them, deliberately suppressing the visible tension.

"And what conclude you it was?"

Obi-Wan hesitated.

"Think you must something, young Obi-Wan. For seek out your Master you did."

"It may. . . . be a premonition. I can't think of what else it might mean," he admitted.

"Disturbing it was for you. But no peril did you sense, you said."

"Not until I saw Qui-Gon dead."

The small green creature shook his head slowly from side to side. "Death and peril, not always the same they are. The fear you sense is your own, not Master Qui-Gon's. If join the Force he does, accept it you must, as a Jedi."

Eyes wide, Obi-Wan stared back. He swallowed again.

"But if Qui-Gon were in danger, should I not act? Should we not act?" Obi-Wan felt like he was begging. But what Yoda told him did not sound right. It felt very wrong.

Yoda nodded slowly.

"Act we should, if help we can," he agreed. Obi-Wan hoped that he could get Yoda's permission to speak to Qui-Gon himself. But the ancient Master shook his head to his request.

"Meditate you should, Padawan. Is it peril you sense for your Master? Or your own fear?"

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Darkness, again.

Obi-Wan knew what it was, where it came from. It was the Force, seen without eyes, heard without ears, felt without hands. There was no malevolence, no evil. He saw only the dark; he did have eyes, but there was no light for them. He felt neither warm nor cold. He heard nothing. This was where his dream-vision was.

He was not asleep. Alone in his room, he knew he sat on a floor cushion, but the meditation had taken his senses completely inward to the Force where his physical body hovered only as a presence in the back of his thoughts.

Going forward, Obi-Wan sought the Temple with its thick, murky dark, where Qui-Gon would be. But this blackness was empty and he had found no Temple when he came across Qui-Gon. His Master stood, looking about him, turning around, his hand touching, probing the darkness. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Qui-Gon hesitated and turned toward him, his expression curious, but Obi-Wan knew that he was too far away.

Qui-Gon then smiled toward him and closed his eyes. Obi-Wan tried to cry out to stop him from reaching for the Force. His yell died in his throat, choked with the darkness.

His Master's eyes snapped open.

Instantaneously, he was dead. His skin drained of color, freezing into lifelessness. His eyes paled, the pupils disappeared. Obi-Wan reached forward. Perhaps he could still be saved.

The body began to expand.

The skin of face and neck split; fingers detached; the body under tunic and robe pushed outward as the clothes began to shred. Obi-Wan drew back.

As the outer parts moved away, the insides became visible, internal organs, eyes, brain, bones. And each piece broke up into more pieces and pieces of pieces in some weird slow motion explosion. The hair drifted upward, each strand breaking into smaller and smaller lengths until it became a huge expanding cloud of brown. Droplets of flesh, blood and bone divided over and over until there was nothing left but an uneven haze, patches of red, brown, pink, white getting larger and larger.

Obi-Wan gasped and threw himself backward. He hit the floor with a solid thump and scrabbled away from the grisly remains drifting toward him.

The night view of his holo-window glowed, un-obscured by flesh or Force. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them.

He had done as Master Yoda had asked. He had meditated on his dream. But now, what was he to do to understand the meditation?

**- - - End Part 1 - - -**


	2. Chapter 2

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 2 - - -**

Obi-Wan wanted to speak to Master Yoda that morning, but when he commed his request he only received a recorded message that the elder Council member was unavailable.

After first meal, Obi-Wan went to the training arenas to practice. His participation with the embassy visits only came every third day. The rest of his time was split between a seminar on survival techniques, lightsaber practice and his studies.

Obi-Wan scanned the large room of Jedi exercising, sparring and practicing lightsaber forms. Seeing a welcome and familiar form, he hurried to one training arena and took a seat on the bench next to it.

Master Clee Rhara directed her Padawan, Garen Muln, through a series of spins and jumps, a simple exercise that tested a Jedi's response to spoken orders.

"Jump back! . . . . Left! . . . . Down . . . . Stay down! . . . . Back!"

Garen responded swiftly, gracefully diving and dodging with her shouted orders, his motions anticipating each one. Clee paced the perimeter of their training area, watching Garen, but her eyes flicked back toward Obi-Wan.

Finally she called 'stop' and Garen spun back to her and, breathing heavily, bowed.

"You have improved, but you still must learn to channel your strength through the Force better, my Padawan. And you have an admirer," the red-headed woman said with a smirk of amusement, her eyes glancing back toward Obi-Wan's bench.

Garen grinned and Obi-Wan returned his friendly slap on the arm.

"You can join us," Garen suggested, but his Master, still smiling, shook her head.

"I have enough to do with training one of you." Clee told him. "Where is Qui-Gon?"

"He has been sent on a mission by the Council," Obi-Wan answered.

"And left you here to find your own sparring partners, I see." She nodded to them both. "I will leave you to each other's company. Padawan, I will be at the Archives." She bowed and left them.

"She needs to finish reporting on our last mission," Garen explained. "We just got back."

"Did it go well?"

Garen grimaced. "Well, Clee said it went as well as could be expected, but I could have done better." Garen demonstrated with his lightsaber some aspects of deflecting blaster bolts that he had not heeded.

"What's Qui-Gon mission?" Garen asked, deactivating his saber.

Obi-Wan frowned. "I don't know. It's for the Council. But I wanted to talk to you about it." They left the training arenas and their echoing sounds of exertion. Strolling together through lower level halls of the Temple, Obi-Wan told his friend about his dreams, his inability to contact Qui-Gon, Yoda's advice and the result.

"I feel like I need to do something," Obi-Wan finally admitted. "More," he added hastily. The flush of panic from his dreams had left him, but the memory of it disturbed his concentration and repeatedly intruded on his thoughts. He had no place to go. He did not know where the Jedi Council had sent Qui-Gon and communication was barred. Obi-Wan wanted to speak with Qui-Gon. Perhaps his Master had sensed something similar to his dreams, or could explain them.

Qui-Gon might not have sensed anything at all. He might even be annoyed that Obi-Wan had contacted him about something so ephemeral and unreliable as a dream vision. But Obi-Wan would have welcomed Qui-Gon's disapproval over his present inaction. He was frozen in place, trapped in the Temple and his own inability to act.

Garen had no answers. Obi-Wan had not expected that he would, but he felt better after telling him about his dream.

"Maybe Master Clee can speak with Yoda about it?" Garen suggested. "I'm sure she'd be happy to speak for you. Or Yoda might let her talk to Qui-Gon for you?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I don't think they'll allow it. I have more reason to talk to Qui-Gon than she would, and they won't let me." Jedi did not com other Jedi on mission just to chat.

Garen shrugged. "I don't think it can hurt to ask Clee about it. She won't do anything that she thinks is a bad idea."

"I suppose not," Obi-Wan agreed. Then he smiled. "Thanks." Minor as it was, he had something to do other than wait and meditate.

Garen grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.

They found Clee in the Archive and after Obi-Wan had given her an abbreviated account of his visions about Qui-Gon (with a few prompts from Garen) she considered it. Clee looked at him with sympathy.

"I regret that I do not have any better advice for you than Yoda. Dream visions are unknowable mysteries, Obi-Wan. It really is best not to get involved in them," she said, her voice low and serious. "I will tell Master Yoda that your meditation was even more disturbing than the vision itself. Perhaps if you can meditate together that will ease your thoughts. And if he can't, then Garen and I would be pleased to join you." She smiled and Obi-Wan reluctantly returned it. More meditation was not what he had been hoping for, but he would not turn it down either.

Clee seemed to read his thoughts. "I cannot ask about Master Qui-Gon or his mission. That is the Council's affair only." Her tone had gone serious, but her face was kind and Obi-Wan appreciated that. He nodded his understanding.

"But first, I must finish our last mission report. And I need you now for that, Garen."

Obi-Wan bowed and promised to meet them for first meal in the morning. He left Master and Padawan together in the Archives.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Alone in his room, seated on a floor cushion, Obi-Wan thought of Qui-Gon.

He recalled his Master telling him that he had been assigned to a priority mission by the Jedi Council. But he only shook his head when Obi-Wan asked about it. Obi-wan had accepted that any information about priority missions for the Council was not meant for Padawans and they discussed Obi-Wan's studies and training over the rest of their dinner.

Obi-Wan's thoughts explored the details of that talk, their last long discussion before Qui-Gon left the following morning.

Obi-Wan would continue to participate in the embassy visits. Of course, he would continue with lightsber training at their usual times. His studies of some ancient Jedi holocrons would be suspended since Qui-Gon needed to be present for him to access those, but he could use the break to review the related historical information. Qui-Gon had suggested that he might study with Padawan Teekoh. She was apprentice to Master Ynofique, who would also be on the same mission with Qui-Gon. Since Ynofique was an Archivist, Teekoh had some duties in the Archive. . . .

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. It was evening. He faced the holo-window in his room, a wide image of a planetary crater illuminated by the nighttime reflections of a green sister planet.

He had not followed up his background studies on the ancient Jedi holocrons yet and the one time that he had looked for Teekoh, she had been busy. But her Master was on the same mission as Qui-Gon. There were two others, but Obi-Wan did not know who. Qui-Gon only mentioned Ynofique and Teekoh as an aside when they were discussing his studies.

Obi-Wan breathed in and out slowly. If he was seeing images of Qui-Gon dead, was it possible that Teekoh was experiencing something similar with her Master? He got up and put the floor cushion away under the table in his room. It was too late to politely com Teekoh for a meeting. Obi-Wan began to prepare for sleep. He would contact her in the morning.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Obi-Wan walked in darkness.

He knew this was a dream. It had to be. He knew he should wake up, but he did not want to miss anything important.

His boots thumped loudly on the black floor. In the distance he saw a faint horizon, a line of rising smoke in the distance into uneven patches of glowing, transparent blue. The smoke stabilized in places as other tendrils of it continued to drift upward. Obi-Wan's gaze followed it.

He stopped walking.

The glowing, smoky image of the top of his Master's face curved high above him. Obi-Wan tilted his head back looking up past forehead and hairline. He turned around, still following the translucent hair to the tie on the back of the head. On either side of him were two enormous ears, dimly glowing in the distance.

Obi-Wan supposed that this was better than the last ghastly vision from his meditation. This was just. . . . weird. He seemed to be standing on a black plane that bisected a gigantic holographic image of Qui-Gon's head, and he was seeing it from the inside.

A light breeze chilled his skin. He turned in that direction but there was nothing but the image of the face in the distance.

The air moved again, this time with a long, low moan of discomfort. Obi-Wan saw a cloud of his own breath, glowing blue in the sudden cold. He listened carefully. The moan tunelessly groaned and faded into silence again, like a sleeper unwilling to leave the comfort of a dream. The air became still again. Obi-Wan's heart beat faster. He recognized the voice of the moaning.

Icy air touched his cheek again. He turned his back to it. Air rushed around him, escaping. Now he felt the living Force going with it. Above his, the enormous eyes whitened, going blank. Obi-Wan threw his arms out, trying to catch some of it, but not even a trace of the ebbing life would stick to him. It ran away between his fingers, slipping around his body and limbs. The image around him began to break up.

He threw his arms up, desperately trying to save some little bit.

Obi-Wan stared up at the plain ceiling of his room, faintly tinted green from the light of the holo-window. Lowered his arms, he sat up.

Emptiness froze his thoughts. He couldn't remember what Qui-Gon looked like. He knew what his Master looked like, what color his hair and eyes were, how tall he was, what he wore, but the image would not come. That was more disturbing than his dream.

Had something happened?

He sensed no violence, no danger, just like the other visions. Other than the dreams themselves, there was no disturbance in the Force, no immediate instinct to act, just the need.

Obi-Wan got up, walked across the room and put his robe on over his nightshirt. His room felt very small and confining. He went out into the dimmed hallway to the lifts.

He exited on a lower level, passing no one in the dimmed nighttime corridors. His bare feet made almost no sound on the cool floor. Without his boots on, the hem of his robe brushed the ground in his wake.

Entering a large hall, he went to its center and looked up at the darkened ceiling high above. He closed his eyes. An impression of the vastness of the Force around him returned, like he was touching space itself far beyond the Temple. He realized that he had felt the same thing in his earlier visions as well.

An involuntary chill of panic clutched his insides. Would Qui-Gon die in space?

He automatically pushed past this thought to defuse the fear. A death in space was sudden and violent. He felt none of that. He felt as if Qui-Gon was not alive, but not gone either. Feeling lost, one dot in an immense galaxy, Obi-Wan looked up again.

Where was Qui-Gon?

**- - - End Part 2 - - -**


	3. Chapter 3

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 3 - - -**

Obi-Wan stared at the com lying next to his plate.

Seated at the same table, Lidi Mah peered down at the message.

"Aaaah," the Jedi Knight exclaimed. "Your friend has been sent on a mission with his Master. Just this morning." Obi-Wan silently nodded. Garen was gone.

Obi-Wan had hoped to see him and his Master at first meal, and perhaps hear about Clee's meeting with Yoda. Staring down at the glowing text of the short message, he felt abandoned. He knew it was irrational. Jedi were sent on missions all the time, often on very short notice. But he had hoped that Clee would convince Yoda to speak with to him. But there were no other messages on his com. He had already sent an inquiry to Yoda; if it was still unanswered then Yoda was not ready to see him. He actually felt relieved that there was no message from Yoda, who would likely be the person who would be tasked with speaking with him if anything did happen to Qui-Gon.

"It was important?" Lidi Mah put her glass down, her large golden eyes concerned, reading his reaction.

Obi-Wan frowned. Lidi Mah occupied one of the rooms next to his. He saw her sometimes, especially on mornings when he was not with Qui-Gon. She was friendly, a Knight of middle years with no apprentice, but he did not know her very well. She divided her time between duties in the Temple and diplomatic missions that she only spoke of in generalities.

"I hoped that Garen's Master would speak to Yoda about Qui-Gon for me."

Lidi Mah's antennae canted upward in surprise, the shiny black spines covering her bronze skull stood up a little.

"The Council sent him on a special mission and. . . .I've. . . . had a bad feeling about it lately," he said, using the shortest explanation he could think of. "And I spoke to Yoda about it. He said I should meditate on it. But that made it worse."

"If you do speak with him, Yoda will just tell you to meditate again. That's his answer for everything." Lidi Mah looked thoughtful. "Disturbance in the Force? Meditate. Indigestion? Meditate. Break your arm. Fix it, then meditate." Obi-Wan smiled back with a suppressed laugh.

"I rarely ask Master Yoda for advice since I usually know what it will be." Lidi Mah smiled back.

"I talked to Garen and Master Clee about it. We were going to meditate together." He shrugged and she grinned back. She picked up her cup and took a sip. He picked up his piece of sweet bread and took a bite. Having reached the limits of their usual level of social interaction, they sat silently together at their table in the dining hall.

A Creche Master led a group of older Initiates to a long table near them. Lidi Mah's eyes followed the group and Obi-Wan sensed the intensity of her gaze. Obi-Wan was only sixteen and had occupied his current room for three years, but Lidi Mah had always been his neighbor. As far as he knew she had never had an apprentice. He looked from her to the group, trying to see if she was focusing on any individual, but if she was, he could not see who it would be. A few Initiates peeked their way, but did not stare.

Lidi Mah glanced back and caught him staring. She smiled.

"Master Yoda suggested I take an apprentice."

"I thought you said you didn't ask Master Yoda for advice," Obi-Wan reminded.

"I didn't. Master Yoda does not always wait for you to ask for his advice." She took a bite of her fruit. "I have been very comfortable serving by myself, but Master Yoda reminded me of my duty to pass on my knowledge." She took another bite. "He suggested that I take on some duties with the Creche to acquaint myself with the Initiates. And then I was reassigned there."

Obi-Wan did not realize that she had any duties in the Creche.

"Have you chosen anyone?"

She shook her head slowly and sipped her juice. "I have no strong feelings for any of them, and some strong feelings against a few." She sighed. "But I am increasingly aware of the importance of choosing one. They have potential." Her antennae tilted toward the table of Initiates eating and chatting amongst themselves. Obi-Wan did not recognize any of them, though they would have been smaller younglings in the Creche when he was still an Initiate.

"But I have a bad feeling about choosing wrongly," Lidi Mah admitted. "Your own Master has encountered this. If I can avoid such a burden, I will."

"You can ask him about it, if you wish," Obi-Wan suggested. She looked up at him. "He won't be offended," he assured her. He and Qui-Gon rarely talked about his Master's fallen apprentice, Xanatos, but they had. Qui-Gon had spent one long, late night in the Temple gardens telling him stories about Xanatos. Obi-Wan supposed that the good that Qui-Gon remembered in Xanatos partly came from bias. Obi-Wan had personally never seen any of it himself. But Obi-Wan also believed that Qui-Gon's perceptions could not have been swayed unless there had been genuine light in Xanatos.

"Thank-you," she said. "I will ask him when he returns. I'm sure he will have better advice than just meditation." They both smiled briefly and then looked back down at their plates. Lidi Mah ate a pressed grain chip.

"I regret that I do not have any better advice for your bad feelings than to be patient. Which is almost as useless as meditation, " Lidi Mah said. "Perhaps if you tell me more about them, that could lead you to some resolution?" She glanced at him, her antennae pointed toward him, her spines back, another chip in her hand.

Obi-Wan did not think talking about his dreams would be any more helpful than meditating about them. He had decided the night before that he could only resolve his dilemma by speaking with Qui-Gon. Even if his Master only told him to meditate, the contact itself would break the void he now felt trapped in.

Looking back at her golden eyes, Obi-Wan knew that Lidi Mah had no influence with the Council, no more priority to contact Qui-Gon than Clee Rhara had. But he felt the same gratitude he had when Garen's Master had offered to help.

He nodded and over the remains of their meal began to tell her about his dreams.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

"No, I haven't heard anything from Master Ynofique," Teekoh replied. "She told me not to expect to hear from her at all until she returned. You were told that the mission was extended again?"

Obi-Wan nodded. He had received the com in the middle of the day, a short, terse text message that Qui-Gon would not be returning for an undetermined amount of time. And no response to his last inquiry message to Yoda at all.

They walked together down a wide corridor toward the Archives where Teekoh assumed some of her Master's duties. A few years older than Obi-Wan, she was a senior Padawan with short hair and a very long orange braid that hung down the front of her tan tunic.

"I've been seeing things, through the Force, about Qui-Gon. I was wondering if you sensed anything about your Master?"

Wide with surprise, her pale blue eyes contrasted with her dark skin. She shook her head.

"I have sensed nothing. And I meditate on Master Ynofique every evening."

Obi-Wan felt both disappointed and relieved. Teekoh frowned down at him.

"What have you sensed?" she asked.

Obi-Wan recalled his dreams to her in short, unemotional sentences. She was the fifth person he had described them to and their impact seemed to diminish with each retelling, drained of any surprises. But Teekoh looked concerned.

"You are sure that this comes to you though the Force?"

Obi-Wan nodded. He knew the difference between a nightmare and a vision.

"And you have already spoken with Master Yoda?"

"Yes."

She frowned. "Unless Yoda gives his permission, I don't know how we could contact either of them. Ynofique said this mission was for the Council and the Archives. Master Poof himself went with them as well as Master Almuta and Master Jinn." Obi-Wan did not know who Almuta was, but Yarcel Poof was a member of the Jedi Council, which confirmed that it was a very important mission.

His mind seizing this new information, Obi-Wan wondered why these four Masters had been sent together. Could that be a clue about what they were doing, and what his visions meant?

He had only been walking with Teekoh as she went to the Archives. Now he had something to do there as well.

"I will meditate on what you have told me," Teekoh told him. "But I must say that I hope that I do not sense anything like what you have." Obi-Wan agreed.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Obi-Wan lay on his sleep couch and stared up at the infinite ceiling above. He knew that his sense of being suspended between stars was part his dream, this new vision.

Unfortunately, he now realized that he did not know how to wake up from it. He had tried deep breathing, sitting up, flexing all his muscles one at a time, all the usual methods he used to end a deep meditation. But the vast void still surrounded him. This seemed to be a level above any fleeting images, sounds and sensations he normally perceived through the Force. Concerned that doing anything more physical would make it worse, he waited for the inevitable conclusion. He would need to ask Qui-Gon about what discipline he needed to learn to get out of this. When the real Qui-Gon returned. Not the one that would appear and then die before him.

Staring upward, Obi-Wan thought that he could see a few stars, but that could have been his own imagination. That was the problem with dream visions. The Force mixed with whimsy, plus the changing flows of the future could not be separated. Wiser Jedi than one isolated Padawan had failed to disentangle them before plunging themselves and others around them into disastrous actions. Dreams and visions were to be let go, like fear and emotions.

Obi-Wan supposed that if this were easy to do, then there would not be so much Jedi discipline devoted to it.

He continued to stare up at the void, but a dead Qui-Gon failed to materialize, as if it were waiting for Obi-Wan to let his guard down. He closed his eyes. A vision could not possibly care if he were looking or not.

His thoughts returned to his last research in the Archives. Trying to at least gain a clue about what his Master's mission could be about, he had cross-referenced Qui-Gon Jinn, Ynofique, Yarcel Poof and Lurad Almuta for anything they had in common. They were all different species and ages, with different proficiencies in the Force. They had all been to some of the same worlds, but not at the same times and for completely different reasons. About the only things he could conclude about their mission was that it was probably diplomatic since the team included a Council member, and important enough to need an immediate record of it since Ynofique was an Archivist. But what were Qui-Gon and Lurad Almuta doing?

Any possible meaning in the mass of details he had accessed had been buried in a mountain of facts. If it had been there at all. He had only worked with the information he was allowed to see. Some information about Jedi Masters, including his own, was barred to Padawans.

His thoughts broke up easily in the tide of details he had read about in the Archive. Obi-Wan did not really want to know about the mission; he was not allowed to anyway. But he had hoped that maybe if he had a general idea of what they were doing, he could respond to his visions better than just panicking. Or maybe he had just been keeping himself busy, covering up his inaction with the slim chance that his research would be productive. . . .

He opened his eyes wide.

He saw the ceiling of his room, faintly illuminated by the glow from his holo-window. Feeling that some time had passed, Obi-Wan realized that he had fallen asleep. It was nearly time for him to get up. Was that the way to avoid visions? Just curl up and ignore them until they went away? He sat up.

The reflection from the mirror next to his fresher door stared back at him with the dead eyes of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan threw himself to the floor, taking blanket and pillow with him. He kept his head down until he had controlled his trembling body. Pushing himself up off the ground, he stood. If the apparition was still there, he wanted to confront it. But he was alone and the mirror was bare of ghosts and voids. He saw only his own unhappy face.

Still breathing hard, Obi-Wan felt like he had just been ambushed. Now determined, he went to the fresher to wash and then dress. He had tried enough passive meditation. He needed to do something.

**- - - End Part 3 - - -**


	4. Chapter 4

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 4 - - -**

"I'm sorry, only the Council may send any communications to your Master," the same bluish-brown-haired woman overseeing the Mission Ops terminals told him. Obi-Wan still did not know her name and now he felt foolish for not having looked it up before coming.

"I wish to ask for permission to send a communication," he amended.

"You will have to ask a member of the Council. I cannot give it," she reminded him.

Obi-Wan hesitated, a new idea forming. Yoda was only the Council member that he was most familiar with, since he was a mentor to Creche when he was a youngling. There were eleven other Council members. Could he get permission from one of them? He could not think of any reason why not, since all Council members had equal authority.

"Um, I'm not sure who I should ask," he said uncertainly. This was true. He knew some Council members acted as instructors to Initiates and younger Padawans, but others were only names and stern faces to him.

"Oh, well, let me see." She turned to check her screens while Obi-Wan silently kept his thoughts on any other Council member but Yoda, who had already declined his request.

"Master Yaddle will be here after first meal. I can pass your request to speak to your Master to her." Obi-Wan let his breath out. He had a chance. "But if she cannot allow it, you must accept it," she instructed him. Obi-Wan nodded.

"Is there anything else you wish to add to your request?"

"No," he responded gratefully.

"Then you may go, Padawan." Feeling more glad than he had in days, he bowed and left.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

"Like this." Obi-Wan let his lightsaber fall forward, only using his wrist to direct it back around to complete the circle. Then he did it again, three circles and a lunge forward. Ee-Ida imitated his motion, though not as smoothly. Qui-Gon had shown her some techniques before he had left on his mission and he had asked Obi-Wan to continue helping her practice while he was away. The young Twi-lek girl was growing and she complained often about how clumsy it made her feel, but she was still more than a head shorter than Obi-Wan as well as being two years younger.

Ee-Ida's Master had been badly injured on a mission and Qui-Gon was one of several Masters who were helping with her training until he recovered. Qui-Gon used a different fighting style than Doombas, Ee-Ida's master, which was contributing to her problems with learning it.

He stood behind her, showing how she would protect herself with the whirling blade attacks. They moved slowly together and, her expression puckered with determination, she copied him. They did it several times, each time a little faster, and the repetition helped. Pleased, she bounced on her feet, turning toward him.

"Oh," she said, the smile leaving her green face. Obi-Wan looked behind him.

Sitting in his float chair, Master Yoda approached them. Both Padawans deactivated their sabers and bowed. Yoda's chair stopped before them. Obi-Wan's thoughts stopped, frozen in dread.

"Doing well, young Ee-Ida is?" he asked. Hardly glancing toward the young girl, Yoda's eyes stayed on him. If Yoda had wanted to finally accept his request to talk again about his dream visions, he would have just sent a com. This was something more important.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, nodding.

"Finished you are," Yoda said to her. "To Obi-Wan, I must speak." Ee-Ida's eyes widened in surprise. She and Obi-Wan had just begun their session. She turned to him and he nodded. She hastily bowed again to Yoda and scampered away.

Obi-Wan stood alone before the float chair. Master Yoda did not speak, his eyes impassive, unreadable. Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan wanted to ask, but dared not. Anything that might have befallen his Master would become real as soon as the words were spoken.

Yoda waved one clawed hand for Obi-Wan to follow and turned his float chair around. They passed the training areas of Jedi sparring and exercising. A few nodded their heads to Master Yoda, who nodded back. No one seemed to notice Obi-Wan.

The sounds of movement and humming lightsabers faded behind them. Keeping his own expression neutral, Obi-Wan walked alongside the float chair. But inside he felt stricken. Yoda needed to speak with him personally, and alone. About something important.

After a few minutes, Obi-Wan saw that they were headed toward the lifts that would take them to the living areas. They crossed a wide walkway, past enormous columns under the high, patterned ceilings of the Temple. Other Jedi sedately passed them. All around, the Temple remained as serene and peaceful as it lad been when Qui-Gon last left it. And Obi-Wan could not remember his Master's face.

"Request permission to speak with Master Qui-Gon, you did," Yoda finally said when they had reached the lifts. They were alone with no one else around.

Surprised by the remark, Obi-Wan looked at him.

"Yes, Master," he acknowledged and pressed the call button for the lift.

"To Master Yaddle you gave your request." Yoda narrowed his eyes at him.

Baffled, Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes." The lift arrived. It was empty. They entered together and Obi-Wan pressed the lighted symbol for his level. Yoda did not object.

"After I said you should not. You went to another." Yoda's eyes found him and his brows lowered, his expression severe. Obi-Wan's fears for Qui-Gon shifted into something else. "Meditate on this vision I told you." Yoda slowly shook his head, disappointed.

"I-I did," Obi-Wan stammered. "It got worse. I think that if I spoke with Qui-Gon about it, that I . . . ." His words died under Yoda's steady glare. Get past the visions? Feel better about them? He felt like he was making excuses. He was.

The door to the lift opened. Yoda exited and Obi-Wan followed. He felt queasy. Qui-Gon wasn't dead? he wondered. That realization suffocated under a lesser, but more immediate dread.

Yoda led him down the hall to his room.

"Disobey you did."

No, he wanted to say, but he felt numb with the realization that more words could only make his situation worse. They stopped at the door to his room. Obi-Wan opened it.

"Stay here you will, until Master Qui-Gon returns. No more trouble will you make until then." Obi-Wan backed up through the doorway.

"Master Yoda. . . . Qui-Gon?" he managed to say.

Yoda scowled back. "Received a report today we have, from Master Qui-Gon, that the mission goes well. No longer your concern that is." He waved his clawed hand at the wall panel in the entryway. The door slid closed between them.

Obi-Wan stared at it. Then he backed away. Retreating into the main room he hit his leg on the table before he sank down onto one of the floor cushions. It hurt a lot.

Qui-Gon was not dead, he kept thinking, clutching his injured leg to his body. When Yoda had sent Ee-Ida away he had been certain that the ancient Master had come with the bad news. But now he had fallen into a new plight. Everything had seemed so clear to him about what to do that morning; just ask another Council member.

The pain in his leg peaked and faded. He lowered his knee and leaned forward on the table. He had been so sure about what to do, but his actions would look completely different to Master Yoda, since he had failed to mention anything about Yoda denying his request in his message to Master Yaddle.

A tear ran down Obi-Wan's cheek, then another. Yoda said Qui-Gon was well. But he still did not know where he was, when he would return and there was no chance of contact now.

Qui-Gon said that for emotions to pass through a Jedi, they still needed to be felt. Obi-Wan thought that if Qui-Gon were there to say it again, he might be able to do it, let them pass through. But alone, all Obi-Wan could do was endure them.

Crying freely, his head down, his sobbing filled the small space he now occupied. But there was no else there to here it.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

At second meal, the door chimed. A droid stood in the doorway when Obi-Wan opened it. The blue-gray machine handed him a covered tray and promised to return later to pick it up.

Obi-Wan placed it on his table and sat down on a floor cushion before it. But when the droid returned later, he handed back the meal, mostly uneaten.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

The droid returned for third meal. Now hungry, Obi-Wan better applied himself to the food. It tasted like nothing, but his stomach stopped growling. He had hardly finished half of it when the door chimed again. But when he opened it, instead of a droid, a Jedi stood there.

He stared a moment, recognizing Doombas, Ee-Ida's Master. Obi-Wan stood back as he limped forward with a loud thump-clacking sound as he alternated between booted foot and artificial leg. He was a large broad-shouldered Human with a lot of weight to move around. He stopped, looking down at the food tray.

"I couldn't believe the message Ee-Ida got when she commed you. That you were confined to your room on orders of the Council." Obi-Wan cringed. Yoda must have added an automated message to the com. Doombas frowned down at the food. "Now, if it were your Master, I could believe that. He could drive anyone to the dark side. But you? I didn't think it likely."

"Um, are you allowed to be here, Sir?" Obi-Wan asked tentatively. Doombas looked offended.

"If the Council wanted to forbid you visitors, then they should have put it in their com," he stated crossly. Then his expression softened. He held up a big wad of brown fabric in his large hand. "You left your robe in the training arena. Ee-Ida found it." He pushed it toward him and Obi-Wan took it.

"Um, please sit," Obi-Wan offered, but Doombas scoffed at the floor cushions.

"I can't sit on those yet." He thump-clacked across the room and seated his large body at the end of Obi-Wan's sleep couch. After hesitating, Obi-Wan put the robe down and sat on a floor cushion facing him, looking at his face. He had a long, thick metal-gray beard and a fringe of long hair around the base of his head that was tied in a tail that hung part way down his back. The top of his head was bald and shiny. Doombas smiled.

"You can look," he said, pointing at where his left leg used to be. Obi-Wan blushed.

"I haven't decided if I want a mechanical replacement," Doombas announced, as loud as he was big. "They do everything the real one does. You can even make it look real. But it would still be dead. I don't know if I want something dead hanging off of me all the time," he finished more to himself.

"But my problem's easy to see. All you need is eyes. Yours is a bit harder to figure out," Doombas pointed out. Obi-Wan shrugged but did not answer. He hardly knew Doombas; Qui-Gon knew him better. The older man smiled sadly.

"You don't have to say anything. I can just be here to return the robe. But Qui-Gon helped me with my Padawan and I didn't want to leave you to the mercies of the Council while he's away on their business." Obi-Wan lowered his eyes; his throat tightened. He really thought he had exhausted those feelings, but they re-emerged anyway. Doombas noisily rose to his feet and crossed the room again to stand over him.

"I'll help if I can. I have a lot of time these days."

Obi-Wan nodded, then hastily rose to follow Doombas to the door. When the big man was gone and the room sealed again, Obi-Wan returned to his place. He slowly sank down forward, casting a dark shadow on the table under the overhead light. His arms wrapped over his head, he wept, fresh emotions flowing freely again.

**- - - End Part 4 - - -**


	5. Chapter 5

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 5 - - -**

Even though he was hungry again and he had not finished third meal, Obi-Wan could hardly eat any of fourth meal. He returned the tray mostly untouched. Obi-Wan was supposed to have attended the next day's session of embassy visits. He had sent a message that he would not be coming. But if anyone wondered why and inquired about it, they would have encountered Yoda's message about his confinement. Obi-Wan had received no messages from anyone.

The night dragged on and he knew that the rest of the Temple was retiring. If he closed his eyes and cleared his mind, after a time he could feel the subtle differences in activity.

He felt tired and worn out, but the possibility of another vision kept him wakeful. Obi-Wan took a floor cushion and placed it in the center of the room. He turned all the lights off except for the holo-window which he set to a brilliant star field in deep space. If he was to be plagued with another vision, then perhaps he could get it over with and then get some rest.

Like a living fog, heavy with his own emotions, the Force surrounded him. Obi-Wan thought of Qui-Gon, facing him in a training arena, green lightsaber raised. Obi-Wan heard his voice, telling him to guard his sides. Qui-Gon would precisely flick his lightsaber close enough for him to feel the heat of the tip for emphasis. The images and sounds and smells came easily now. Qui-Gon eating and getting something caught in his beard. Qui-Gon on a pedestal meditating. Qui-Gon teaching him to push outward with the Force.

The weight of the Force lightened inside him and his dread dissipated into a calm that Obi-Wan could not recall feeling since Qui-Gon had left. The Force felt different when Qui-Gon was nearby, Obi-Wan's own awareness enhanced by his Master's presence. Qui-Gon encouraged him to explore the depths this created. Obi-Wan could feel it now. He was sure that Qui-Gon would be pleased by that. But this was only memory, with no visions, no insight nor premonition from the Force.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Only ordinary darkness surrounded him.

His shoulders sagged. He had been sitting for a long time and it was past when he normally retired. Whatever vision might come was determined to disturb his sleep. Wearily, Obi-Wan rose and went to his sleep couch.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Obi-Wan was seated on the floor at his table when the droid came with first meal of the day.

Wearing only pants and undertunic, he sat back down on a floor cushion before the tray. He spread some fruit and nut paste on the bread and ate slowly.

If he had dreamed the night before, he did not remember it. His drive to act had emptied out of him like water spilled on the ground. Sadness and malaise now replaced his anxiety. He had begun his morning routine of washing and meditation out of habit with no enthusiasm. His future remained unknown, his horizon now limited to the boundaries of one small room in the Jedi Temple.

Was he now disappointed, he wondered. Which was worse? The visions of Qui-Gon, living then suddenly gone, frozen in death. Or their absence? Had the visions themselves died? And what did that mean?

He finished the meal and stared down at the empty plate until the droid returned to collect it. After it had left, he stared at the door for a long time. It was not locked. The only thing that kept him inside was the order of the Council. But that command was as good as a force field. Obi-Wan turned away, back into his room.

Weary of moping, he began his morning exercises. He did muscle and breath control, then he pushed and pulled an imaginary opponent with his whole body in very, very slow and disciplined motion. Obi-Wan normally did this with Qui-Gon, action and re-action forming the whole exercise, connecting them through the Force. Qui-Gon had told him that he needed to practice it alone more, to develop his own style of motion. Obi-Wan felt detached from the Force, its flows slow, almost dragging on his limbs and joints. But Obi-Wan minded his Master's instructions. Qui-Gon had said it would become easier to do, alone, with practice. Obi-Wan focused his mind on the exercises and away from anything else.

The door chimed. Obi-Wan whirled. It was much too early for second meal.

Teekoh stood in the doorway when he opened it.

"I wanted to speak to you about your dreams, but when I commed, I received a message. . . ." Her words trailed off, her expression embarrassed.

"Um, come in," he invited so she would not need to stand in the hallway. Her arms folded before her, she walked in. She glanced about the room, finally settling on the holo-window, still set to the star field.

"I have not had any dreams like yours," She finally said, looking back at him. "I really haven't had any dreams at all. I usually don't."

Obi-Wan shrugged. He had not really expected that she would have any news.

"I didn't have any last night," he told her. "And. . . . I don't think I'll have any more," he finally admitted to her, and to himself. That realization had been hovering in his thoughts during his morning meditation, but he had resisted following it. That would have led him to weight which was worse, persistent visions of Qui-Gon dead, or feeling nothing at all.

She clearly read his uncertainty over this. "Oh, well. Dreams do pass. Even in the Force," she replied with tentative reassurance. He nodded, still wondering if anything else had passed with his dreams, and not really wanting to know.

"Well, I notice you don't have a holo-reader. I could get you a terminal from the Archive, since you can't. . . ." Teekoh's words faded. She obviously knew that he was confined to his room, but probably not why.

"I, uh, asked Master Yaddle for permission to contact Qui-Gon," he told her.

"Oh?" Teekoh's voice and narrow orange brows rose.

"But I didn't mention in my message that Yoda had already said no."

"Oh." Her voice lowered. She looked fearful. For him, he realized. He smiled a little, to reassure her. He had already committed his offense and received his punishment. He was done with the worst part of it.

"Yes, if you could bring me a terminal, I could study here. If it's permitted. The Archivists could ask. But I don't think there would be a problem." Obi-Wan preferred to do his studying in the Archive. He liked to keep his room tidy and free of the clutter of reader, holos and data cards that Qui-Gon sometimes acquired. A terminal was a minimal compromise and would at least give him access to the general files in the Archive.

"I'll ask," Teekoh replied with a little smile in return. "May the Force be with you," she said softly before leaving.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

_"So, just as the Jedi must not cling to emotions, so dreams and dream visions must be allowed to pass as well. We are all part of the flows of the Force, but we should not be swept up in them. The Force does not serve the Jedi and those currents are unknowable- - -"_

Obi-Wan clicked off the lecture. The little, bluish holo-Jedi vanished. Most of what he had heard and read said much the same thing that Yoda had told him days ago, except with more words.

_They pass with time. Let them._

This advice, from one aged and long-dead Council member, most succinctly defined this precept of Jedi philosophy. So many Masters advised this, Obi-Wan wondered why it had not been written into the Jedi Code. But apparently even they did not wish to completely let go of the temptation to act. It was merely unwise, not forbidden.

Obi-Wan sagged. Acting on his dreams was effectively forbidden to him. Even if he knew what to do beyond trying and failing to contact Qui-Gon, he still had no idea where in the whole galaxy his Master was.

He looked at the terminal that Teekoh had brought to him, a flat screen, key pad and holo-projector. He pressed his lips together, thinking. He glanced to either side of him, a ridiculous gesture since he was alone in his room.

Making his decision, he quickly tapped a new search request on the key pad. A list of titles scrolled down the screen. He picked one.

A new blue figure sprang up from the holo-projector. A perfect little version of Qui-Gon Jinn stood on it, on his table.

It wasn't quite right. It was an older recording, part of a collection of Master demonstrations and lectures on the Form of Balance. This Qui-Gon was too young, his face unlined and unformed, his beard and mustaches too long.

Obi-Wan scrolled further down the list. There were quite a lot of things that he, as a mere Padawan, was not allowed access to. Some were just markers with no titles. He kept going and then keyed up another list. He sorted the mission reports chronologically and picked the latest one. The tiny Qui-Gon shifted into the right one. Obi-Wan looked down at it, his finger motionless over 'play'.

Did he want to hear Qui-Gon's voice as well? Obi-Wan had no interest in the mission report. He had been there when Qui-Gon had recorded it. He looked at the terminal and wondered how odd it was for him to call a file, but not play it. Would anyone in the Archive even notice? He pictured Yoda receiving an activity report on what he was doing and the ancient Master growling with dismay.

He sighed. No, he wasn't that important. It was unlikely that anyone in the Temple was thinking about him at all. The transparent little Qui-Gon Jinn patiently waited to begin its mission report.

He just wanted to see Qui-Gon, fill his memory with an image of his Master that instead of dying before him would just do something dull and ordinary like a mission report. Of course, he had no images of Qui-Gon. Personal images of other Jedi were forbidden possessions, a sign of attachment. But as Obi-Wan continued to study the little holo, he supposed that he could easily and covertly circumvent that with Archive records. And he seriously doubted that he was be the first person to ever do so.

Obi-Wan lowered his head. Yoda would certainly discipline him for what he was doing. And even Qui-Gon might as well. If he was there.

Where was Qui-Gon?

The door chimed.

Obi-Wan jumped. He quickly erased his terminal screen. The Qui-Gon image vanished. Obi-Wan got up. Ee-Ida and Doombas stood in the doorway when he opened it.

"You're supposed to be training with Ee-Ida, until your Master gets back," Doombas reminded.

Obi-Wan stared back and then closed his mouth.

"I'm sorry, but I can't go - -"

"Oh, I know. I was here yesterday." Doombas waved his hand and stumped forward, nudging Ee-Ida before him. Obi-Wan hastily backed up out of their way.

Doombas surveyed the simple room.

"This will do," he pronounced. He clacked toward Obi-Wan's sleep couch and set himself down on the end. "Move that toward the wall. Give us more room." He waved toward the table and sitting cushions. Ee-Ida looked up at her fellow Padawan, her green eyes uncertain. They both moved the table toward the wall and put the floor cushions under it. Then they stood before Doombas.

"There's not much room to practice with our lightsabers in my room, Sir," Obi-Wan began.

Doombas grinned.

"I trust you two to not have any youngling 'accidents' with them. But there's no point in bringing in more trouble for you." He gestured toward his small Padawan. "You can just go through the motions and show me what you've taught her." Ee-Ida gave Obi-Wan a shy smile. "We've already been to a few of the other Masters who've been training her. You'd be amazed by what Penas Lubinata thinks is a good defense. And I've been out of things for too long." He muttered this last part as much to himself as to them. "So, show me what you have."

Obi-Wan and Ee-Ida both disconnected the power cores of their sabers before starting. Ee-Ida opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't say one more word about being clumsy to me, Padawan." Doombas pointed a stern finger at her. "I can see that you're clumsy. Don't compound that with self-doubt. You won't keep growing forever. It's time for you to learn to adapt to a changing body." He slapped the knee of the artificial leg under his long tan tunic. "It's a valuable skill."

"Yes, Master," Ee-Ida replied solemnly.

They went through some basic two-person form exercises together while Doombas watched. They moved slowly first, their movements carefully controlled. Then they did each action quickly, using the Force instinctively. Doombas seemed to approve, but when Obi-Wan began his attacks so Ee-Ida could respond with the defensive moves she had learned, the older man suddenly stood up. The two Padawans backed away from each other.

"You're doing well," he assured them. "I just can't sit or lie down in one place for too long."

Obi-Wan and Ee-Ida continued while Doombas thump-clacked in place, still watching them. Obi-Wan wondered, if a person couldn't lie down, sit and presumably stand for very long, then what did they do? Especially when they needed to sleep.

Doombas offered a few comments on their form and told Ee-Ida to mind the ends of her lekku as they swung around when she turned, but otherwise he seemed satisfied with their performance. They continued, but Doombas's noisy motions were a constant distraction, especially in the small room.

"I would be healed a lot faster if I accepted more artificials," Doombas told him when he caught Obi-Wan staring at him during a pause between exercises. "But I told them to keep as much as they could. It makes a difference when you use Force." He creaked as he rocked back and forth. Then he excused himself to go to the fresher.

Ee-Ida sadly stared at the fresher door.

"I'm sorry he was injured," Obi-Wan said. The words felt empty to him, but he said them anyway. Doombas's leg had been nearly severed by blaster fire while he covered the retreat of a large class of students being attacked by fanatic marauders. His leg smoking and ruined and with internal injuries, Doombas had played dead until he could dispatch a gloating lead attacker with his saber. The students and Ee-Ida had pulled him to safety. But the remains of his leg could not be removed until later, when the local authorities had reasserted themselves. Obi-Wan had seen the announcement that Doombas's heroism had been recorded in the Archives of the Jedi Order.

"So is he," Ee-Ida replied. She sighed. "He's really a lot better than he was," she told him. "The anger is gone." She nodded at Obi-Wan's shocked expression. "It's been hard for him," she continued. "He really misses being able to move like he did. So, I guess I shouldn't complain about my moves." She shrugged her small body. Obi-Wan smiled back at her. He had been getting a bit irritated with her complaining but hadn't said anything.

They both looked at the fresher door.

"He might take a little extra time," she confided. "He has to take off a few things before he can use the fresher sometimes. And maybe you should run the air recyclers before you use it." She looked embarrassed. They waited.

"Um, I'm sorry about Doombas moving in on you like this, but I'm glad he did. This is the first time he's really been interested in something. Your problem, I mean. He told me not to ask, but I know he wants to know. What you did, I mean." She nervously looked down at her brown tunic. "He's really curious. Well, like he used to be about things. Before his injury. And he kept talking about how Qui-Gon should have taught you more about getting away with things. But I don't think Qui-Gon is that bad." Her jumbled request finished, she looked down again.

"I asked Yoda for permission to contact Qui-Gon on his mission."

Ee-Ida's green eyes looked up at him hopefully.

"He said no," Obi-Wan continued, resigned to his fault. "But later I sent a message asking Yaddle the same thing, but I didn't say anything about Yoda to her."

"Playing one Council member against another?" Doombas commented from the now open fresher door. "At your age? That was pretty stupid." He clacked forward. "It's not a capital crime, but I'm sure Qui-Gon will be proud of you." He looked amused, but Obi-Wan hid his unhappiness. The observation did not sound that funny to him.

Doombas waved a hand toward Ee-Ida. "It's time to go," he announced. "See some of those other Masters who've been teaching you." He nodded toward Obi-Wan. "Thank-you," he said. But Obi-Wan wasn't really sure about what he was being thanked for.

**- - - End Part 5 - - -**


	6. Chapter 6

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 6 - - -**

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Morning again. No dreams. He stared up at the plain beige ceiling over his sleep couch.

He had been confined to his room for only two days. It felt like much longer. He imagined himself spending many more days alone and isolated. Forgotten by the Council. Qui-Gon still gone. And if Qui-Gon failed to return, would anyone notice his Padawan disappearing as well? As long as the droids kept coming with food, he was honor bound to stay where he was. And the droids didn't care.

Disgusted with this new spring of self-pity, Obi-Wan rolled off of his sleep couch and went to the refresher. When he finished there and dressed minimally in pants and undertunic, he went to the com. Just because he was stuck in his room did not mean he could not call out. But when he checked their com status he found that Garen and Clee were still gone on their mission.

He turned around in the empty room. It was almost time for the droid to arrive with first meal. Obi-Wan supposed that his confinement to his room wasn't much worse than being stuck on a spaceship. Except that spaceships usually went somewhere.

The droid arrived. He took the tray from it, returned to his table and sat down.

The door chimed.

Surprised, he got up and opened it.

His neighbor, Lidi Mah, her antennae and head spines alert, stood in the hallway. Pomid Ak-Harta, a Master who lived further down the hall, stood next to her, his expression curious.

"I saw the droid," Lidi explained. "Are you well?" she asked, concerned.

Obi-Wan swallowed.

"The Council confined me to my room," he said simply, suddenly realizing that the did not actually know what the officially worded reason was.

Lidi started back; her head antennae twitched. Pomid looked from him to her, his mouth hanging open.

"Thank you for asking after me," he said, breaking the uncertain silence. He had told Lidi about his dreams, but not Pomid. What could they say? He could see the questions on Lidi's face, but he did not want to tell his whole story from the beginning again. Obi-Wan bowed his head to them and backed into his room. They bowed in return before the door closed.

He returned to his meal. Though the exchange had been brief and uncomfortable, Obi-Wan felt better. No matter what limited future he could see for himself, someone would care enough to look in on him.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

The doors to the Jedi Council chamber opened. Lurad Almuta and Yarcel Poof led the group inside. Poof inclined his long neck toward his fellow Council members before taking his seat. Lurad stood in the center of the room, Qui-Gon Jinn and Ynofique flanking her. They bowed to the whole Council.

"Your mission to the Whills went well?" Mace Windu began.

"Yes, my Masters. Very well."

"Do the Whills wish to have regular contact with the Jedi, then?" Master Mace Windu asked.

Almuta shook her head. "No. And Orum now considers his debt to me paid. There will be no more contact with him or his clan unless the Force wills it so again."

"That was hardly expected, Master Windu," Poof calmly admonished. "The Whills still reject our reliance on the aid of the Republic for recruiting our Initiates. They disdain the involvement of outsiders."

"Thus accounting for why their numbers are so few," Windu commented.

"Their way, it is. Not ours to question, is it," Yaddle reminded.

"Of course, " Windu acknowledged. "Then what news have you from the Whills?"

"Orum shared several of their most revered histories, as well as several training and meditation rituals. Ynofique recorded all of our experiences by holocron."

"Their perception of the Force is most unique," Poof added with a satisfied smile on his thin lips.

"Look forward to sharing this with you, we do," Yoda said. "But more there is?"

"Yes, Master Yoda." Master Almuta nodded her gray-haired head. "In some of our meditations, we communed with a Whill shaman," she paused, to turn to all the assembled Council members. "Who had passed on to the Force."

The circle of Jedi Masters, except for the tall, elegant Quermian, straightened and exchanged glances.

"Sure you are of this?" Yoda questioned, his expression doubtful, his long ears up.

"Yes, Master Yoda," Almuta affirmed.

"We all felt the presence," Poof told his fellow Council members. "But the Whills, and the shaman, being more influenced by the Living Force, spoke most distinctly to Master Qui-Gon."

"Hmmmmm, what say you, Master Qui-Gon?" Yoda asked.

Everyone watched as he stepped forward and inclined his head, his long hair falling down off his shoulders.

"I did indeed commune with the Whill shaman through word-thought. She is an extraordinary being."

"Did she speak to all of you?" Council member Master Xeetag asked in her grating voice.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No. We all felt her presence as well as her meaning and intentions, but her words were only clear to me. I do not know why she only chose to speak directly to me and not the others."

"Know you do, Master Qui-Gon," Yoda contradicted, his aged green face wrinkled with annoyance. "Strongest you are in the Living Force. Why you were included for this contact, this is."

"Did she reveal how she reached such a state, if that is indeed what she was," Windu asked doubtfully.

"She did." Qui-Gon nodded. "In words and images and. . . .shared perceptions, she carefully explained her own years of preparations and the experience itself of transitioning her whole living consciousness into the Force at her death." He took a thoughtful breath. "All the Whills who are capable will follow her. And presumably, with her knowledge, can be followed by the Jedi as well. However, there is really only one way to verify it. And I am not quite ready to attempt that."

Windu smirked. "That is understandable."

"Record this you did?" Yoda asked.

Ynofique nodded her tall, orangish head. Her hand touched the handle of the case she had brought in and set on the floor next to her. "I have, my Masters. And it has not left my side since leaving the planet."

"Secured in the Archive this knowledge must be." Yoda looked to either side of him at the Council circle around him. The Council agreed that the presumed knowledge of retaining consciousness after physical death could be perilous and would be restricted to the Council and the Jedi on the contact team for now. They agreed to meet again the next day after the team had rested. A few Council members would meet with the contact team in a secluded chamber to examine what had been learned from the Whills.

The Council adjourned. The Jedi standing turned toward the exit.

"A moment, Master Qui-Gon." Yoda raised one clawed hand. Qui-Gon stopped, curious. "A word I must have with you. About your Padawan."

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

The droid returned after he finished eating. It politely took the tray in its padded metal fingers and inclined its head before leaving. Returning to the room, Obi-Wan put a floor cushion in the center of the room. He would meditate again, about his now absent dream visions. He did not have any confidence that he would learn anything new, but he had to try. And he had the time.

He sat down, facing the holo-window, still an empty star field.

The door chimed.

His shoulders slumped. Another neighbor must have seen the droid. He got up wearily and went to the door. He was not eager to recite his story to another acquaintance, though he had to admit, it hurt less with each telling. He touched the door activator and it slid aside.

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, his large body like a shadow over the soft light in the hallway. Stunned, Obi-Wan gaped up at him.

His Master tilted his head. "May I come in?" Obi-Wan backed up. Qui-Gon walked forward. The door closed, cutting off the light from outside.

Eyes stinging, Obi-Wan suddenly seized Qui-Gon in a tight hug. Qui-Gon bumped back against the wall behind him but he said nothing and did not pull away. One large hand rested on Obi-Wan's head; the other warmed the middle of his back. This was far from their usual greeting, but Obi-Wan did not care. About dreams, visions, Yoda, the Council. He knew with a certainty that his dreams had passed. He felt them leave, flowing out into the Force like the tears he tried not to shed.

Gradually, his heartbeat slowed and his grip loosened. Qui-Gon did not move or speak. Obi-Wan felt as if he could have stayed where he was for a very long time and Qui-Gon would remain. But he knew that this would be a poor way to test his Master's considerable patience.

He stepped back, wiping his face on his sleeve before more formally putting his arms behind his back. He bowed his head.

"I am pleased to see you, Master," he said, looking up

"I can see that." Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. Then he extended an arm toward the table, inviting them to sit. Obi-Wan retrieved the cushion in the center of the room and set it down for Qui-Gon and pulled out the other one for himself. Qui-Gon moved his cushion so that they were seated at opposite sides of the table.

"I did not know you had returned," he said, facing his Master.

"I have just returned and reported to the Council."

Obi-Wan kept his eyes forward. Of course, since his mission was for the Council he would have reported to them first, which meant that he had spoken to Master Yoda. Qui-Gon confirmed this by repeating what Yoda had told him. It was absolutely accurate about everything.

"I did not think before asking Master Yaddle for her permission. I have no excuse." He lowered his eyes briefly.

"And this all started with your dreams?" Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan nodded. "Then perhaps you can describe them to me." This was not a request. Obi-Wan's relief thinned. He felt as if one of his visions lay in wait somewhere to ambush him again. Or this was a dream and the Qui-Gon before him would suddenly fall dead on the table.

Obi-Wan started at the beginning, with the first dream. He remembered them all quite well. At Qui-Gon's prompting, he also recited his own actions between dreams; his requests to the Jedi at Mission Ops, speaking to Teekoh and Lidi Mah, Yoda coming to him when he was training Ee-Ida. And Doombas's visits. Qui-Gon sat silently, his arms folded before him, his face cool and unemotional. No anger, no judgement, no sympathy. Nothing.

When he had finished and Qui-Gon had no more questions, Obi-Wan waited, silently grateful that Qui-Gon had not died. Obi-Wan felt the dreams passing, receding further away from him again.

"Master Yoda thinks that you are too emotionally attached to me as your Master," Qui-Gon finally announced.

Obi-Wan blinked back. At the moment, given his greeting, he could not actually deny that. "Did he say so, Master?"

"No," Qui-Gon responded, his arms dropping. "But he strongly implied it. And I will not leave him thinking that. Attachments are forbidden, but the Jedi Order could not function without friendships. And I could not teach you anything were we not close. I believe that Yoda over-reacted to your insistence about contacting me. But I must ask you Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon leaned forward, his hands on the table. "At any time did you consider or meditate on what you would do were my death come to pass?"

"No, Master. I thought only of acting. Preventing a death seemed more important." Obi-Wan glared back. He was not angry, but he knew that before he sent his request to Yaddle, he had acted properly.

Qui-Gon's emotionless mask slipped. "As you can see, there was none to prevent," he reassured, his tone softened, his deep blue eyes kind again. And alive.

"I realize that now, Master. And. . . . I will be more wary of visions in the future," he promised.

"I need you to do more than that." Qui-Gon sat back. "You are aware of the procedures for the disposition of a Padawan whose Master has died?"

Obi-Wan nodded. Of course he had read them as part of his training. All Padawans were required to do so. The life of a Jedi Knight was not a safe one. Orphaned Padawans were adopted by Masters at the Temple until a more permanent teacher was found. Or until the Padawan passed the Trials for Knighthood.

"Did you consider reviewing them after your visions began?" Qui-Gon continued. Obi-Wan shook his head. "Then I wish you to go to the Archive and do so." He gestured toward the data reader, pushed away on a corner of the table. "I assume that you will need to return this to the Archive?" Obi-Wan's head nodded.

Qui-Gon's brow crinkled. "Ee-Ida had to review this guidance when Master Doombas was injured and his survival was in doubt," Qui-Gon reminded. "You do so now under much better circumstances."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan managed to reply.

Qui-Gon stood, straightening his robe. "I release you from your confinement. I will petition the Council for an apology from Master Yoda. I believe that he exceeded his authority in disciplining you in this. I will meet you for third meal, in the lower eating hall."

He turned and left, leaving Obi-Wan alone in his room again.

**- - - End Part 6 - - -**


	7. Chapter 7

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 7 - - -**

Qui-Gon entered the Med-Center and made his request to the attendant droid. It tapped a com and issued a series of musical bleeps to relay Qui-Gon's request. Qui-Gon sat down in a soft, dull yellow chair in the waiting area. There was no one else there.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, his hands resting in his lap in an informal meditation. There was no need for him to speak to Doombas. He had already drafted his petition to the Council after speaking with the Jedi Knight at Mission Ops and with Ynofique and her Padawan.

He had been shocked by Yoda's account of what had happened while he was gone. Yaddle had lingered in the Council room when she had seen them talking, and she confirmed Yoda's story about Obi-Wan's offense, but she also expressed surprise that Yoda had banished Obi-Wan to his room. This had initiated Qui-Gon's suspicions about Yoda's part. He was also very unhappy about Yoda's unilateral decision that informing him about Obi-Wan's dreams before he returned would be too much of a distraction from the mission. Yaddle had heard nothing about Obi-Wan's request until Obi-Wan tried to contact her.

Qui-Gon's unhappiness changed to something close to anger when he had actually seen Obi-Wan and heard his account. Factually, it matched exactly what Yoda had said. But emotionally, they were as different as light and dark. True, Obi-Wan had let his passions guide his actions. But that was to be expected at his age, and Yoda's guidance had been minimal at best. If he had no time for Obi-Wan's problem, then he surely could have referred to him to any number of better Masters.

Yoda had always preferred to teach, 'Your own wisdom, you must find' sometimes to excess. He had treated Obi-Wan's dreams as a private test for the boy. And when Obi-Wan had sought out help from a close friend, Rhara and Muln were conveniently sent away. Qui-Gon did not believe in coincidences. And Qui-Gon did not think that Obi-Wan's attempt to go around Yoda's authority, after his efforts to seek either action or guidance had been thwarted, had been such a serious offense.

No, Qui-Gon told himself, he deceived himself by denying his feelings. He was angry. He would not be free to meditate on the Whills and the shaman until he had resolved this. Yoda's arrogant interference with his apprentice, Obi-Wan's obvious trauma, the unspoken accusation of attachment, they all intertwined in a tight, blazing knot.

Thump-a-clak. Thump-a-clak.

Qui-Gon heard Doombas approaching and stood. Obi-Wan had mentioned Doombas's new artificial limb. When the older man appeared, he looked surprising well and like his old self, despite the effort he now expended to simply walk. Determined, Qui-Gon thought, not the disconsolate hulk he had seen earlier, his whole mind and body one unified wound. He was now more than just the parts that been destroyed and damaged.

Doombas grinned at Qui-Gon, who smiled back. He was not close to Doombas, but they had been casual acquaintances since they had been Initiates. They were both much older now.

Holding his arms out to display his new condition, Doombas invited, "Have a look. I would say pathetic, but I'm past that part. Just broken now."

"Hardly broken, Doombas," Qui-Gon denied. "Otherwise you would not be standing and I would still be visiting that huge lump of flesh I saw here earlier." Doombas sneered in return. Qui-Gon knew that he appreciated honesty, the blunter the better, especially if he was the target.

"You came about young Obi-Wan," Doombas stated. Doombas also did not like to waste time.

"Yes."

"I only saw him twice, but he looked better the second time. Less. . . .broken. This will pass for him. And I don't think what he did was very serious. Not by your standards, at least."

Qui-Gon was not sure if this was criticism, or a compliment. It could be either or both coming from Doombas.

"It will pass for him," he agreed. "Despite Master Yoda's doubts. He thinks that Obi-Wan is too attached to me. That he panicked over a vision that I might die on my mission. I released him from Yoda's restrictions and sent him to the Archive to review the actions of Padawans of deceased Masters. To satisfy Yoda's concerns."

Doombas's expression changed to surprise.

Whack!

Doombas's palm shot out with the speed of a Jedi Master and slapped the side of Qui-Gon's head. Stunned, Qui-Gon grabbed for the older man's arm, but he had already pulled it back.

"You sent him alone, you poodoo-brain?" he bellowed. "Ee-Ida didn't have to do it alone!" Doombas fumbled for the com on his belt.

"Ee-Ida?" he spoke into it. She answered almost instantly.

"I want you to go to the Archive and find Obi-Wan Kenobi. Help him with what he's working on. It's important."

"Yes, Master."

He clicked off the com and glared at Qui-Gon.

"I'm really not copying on whatever started this. But why are you so hot about Master Yoda? I thought the Council disciplined Obi-Wan."

Hand still covering his stinging face, Qui-Gon stared back. Doombas pointed an accusing finger at him.

"If you're so concerned with what Master Yoda is doing with your Padawan, then you might start by not acting like him."

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Obi-Wan looked with surprise at the mission synopsis of Jedi Knight Tuor and his Padawan, Zakost. He and Ee-Ida were not allowed to see the whole details, but they did not really need them. Tuor had been killed; two other Jedi Knights and his Padawan were wounded unsuccessfully trying to rescue him.

Zakost had finished the few years left of his training under the tutelage of the Masters in the Temple and gone on to train three of his own Padawans to Knighthood, plus adopting one whose Master had fallen, before retiring to the duties of a much beloved mentor in the Creche. Zakost had soothed more than one of one of Obi-Wan's youngling hurts with furry hugs and kind words. He served there still.

Sitting on the bench next to him, Ee-Ida looked up at him with sad green eyes. Once they had exhausted the dry details about the disposition of orphaned Padawans, she had suggested scanning the records, for Jedi who had left Padawans behind. She had done so when her own Master's survival was in doubt.

Looking at Zakost's history, Obi-Wan suddenly felt that the universe around him had become much larger and broader than his own concerns. His dreams faded even further into shallow concerns compared to the depths of the pasts of others. The guidance for orphaned Padawans was only a collection of words. These files were its reality.

"I talked to Master Zakost after I saw this one," Ee-Ida said. "He said that he would be honored to take me, if I needed him. But I'm really, really glad that he didn't need to." Obi-Wan silently nodded his agreement.

They continued looking at files until the viewer chrono approached the time for third meal, when Obi-Wan would meet Qui-Gon. They shut off the terminal and picked up the data cylinders to return to the Archivists before leaving.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

The door to the meditation chamber on Qui-Gon's level of the living area slid open. In the soft lighting, Qui-Gon recognized Master Yoda's distinctive profile, large ears protruding from his small, slightly pointed head.

Qui-Gon calmly entered, the door closing behind him. They were alone. He took a seat on the second meditation platform. He took extra care of his clothes and pulling out any wrinkles from under him. On the other platform, Yoda glowered at him as he fussed with his robe. Qui-Gon's calm increased.

"I see, the Council has received my petition," he said, his attention still on a few errant folds of brown fabric under his feet. Yoda did not speak until he looked up.

"Received, the Council has."

The room filled with a long silence. Qui-Gon did nothing. If Yoda wished to merely glare at him until the Council addressed his petition, then he would oblige if necessary.

"Unhappy you are, that disciplined your Padawan, I did."

"Yes. I believe you exceeded your authority. But that was not the only issue in my petition."

Yoda pointed a clawed finger at him. "Decide, the Council does, on what best for the mission, is. Distracted you now are, by your pride as Obi-Wan's Master, from you duty to that mission."

"I do not see how I could have been distracted, since I did not know what was going on in my absence."

Yoda shook his head. "Complete, the mission is not. Pass on what you have learned, you have not."

"I shall," Qui-Gon stated. "After this is decided." Qui-Gon knew that he could not focus on the larger world of life, death and Force until he had satisfied the needs of the living around him. Doombas has reminded him of that.

Growling low in his throat, Yoda lowered his brows and long ears.

"Then denied, your petition, is."

Qui-Gon started. Yoda pushed himself to the edge of his platform to climb down to the floor.

"You cannot! You are _not_ the Council, Master Yoda!"

From the edge of his platform he turned back, his expression smug, his green eyes hard.

"Deny I can. If place before your mission, your pride, you do." Yoda dropped from the platform, his clawed, bare feet slapping the floor when he landed.

Qui-Gon slid his long legs off his own platform and stood.

"You did not inform me of Obi-Wan's dreams. You offered him poor guidance when he asked for it. You denied him his friend's counsel when he sought it." Qui-Gon listed his grievances, his voice getting louder while Yoda picked up his gimer stick and then looked back up from the shadow of the platform, his expression stern.

"Deny him counsel, _I did not_." Yoda jabbed his stick at Qui-Gon for emphasis. "Mission there was. No part did I have in that."

Qui-Gon folded his arms before him and glared down at Yoda.

"Really," he said contemptuously.

Ears lowered, Yoda's eyes narrowed, his wrinkled face tightened. Qui-Gon could not possibly have found a worse insult, to imply that a Jedi Council member was not speaking the truth. It hung in the air between them. Qui-Gon did not believe him.

Yoda scowled, grumbling low. "Meditate you should, on false accusations." Yoda turned his back on him to walk toward the float chair on the floor by the door.

Outraged, Qui-Gon reached down to turn Yoda back to face him. Yoda would not find him so easy to discard as Obi-Wan had been. He would go around Yoda and petition every member of the Council personally if he had to, but he would not have his grievances so casually cast aside without protest.

"Aaaaugh!" Yoda whirled.

Blunt claws pressed deep into Qui-Gon's arm as Yoda's cloak swiftly scurried up his arm. Crying out, Qui-Gon tried to turn and pull back. The Force slammed down on his back and shoulders and he staggered. It came again, driving him down with another colossal impact. The left side of his face hit the floor, hard. Lights flashed in his vision.

Stunned, he lay there, his arms spread out, his face numb on the cold floor. A weight pressed down on his neck and shoulders.

"Something more to say, you have, Master Qui-Gon?" Yoda's voice hissed over him with cold, dead fury. Blunt claws pressed into an artery in Qui-Gon's neck while Yoda's other hand gripped his long hair. The Force was a dark weight over them both.

Qui-Gon's eyes teared, with pain and emotion. Yoda had struck him down in anger. Qui-Gon did not think he could bear such a tragedy.

_~~//Aaaaaaah, so strong, so strong. So much power he has. But really, it is nothing at all.//~~_ a familiar voice spoke in his head.

The Whill shaman had returned.

_~~//He could kill you in an instant, but you are only full of sadness for him, with grief. All for him.//~~_

Yoda breathed heavily over him, his breath heating his hair.

_\\I do not understand your whims. Or why you are here now.\\_ The words formed in Qui-Gon's mind. As had happened before, Qui-Gon felt as if the Whill spoke from everywhere around him.

A chuckle. Not just an imaginary sound, but an essence of amusement, and fondness. _~~//You questioned why I only spoke to you,//~~_ she reminded him.

_\\You said you could only speak to my compassion.\\_ His own presence with the Whill felt small and isolated. As before, the Whill seemed as connected to the life of the whole universe as the Force itself, but still a separate and distinct being.

_~~//You did not understand it then. Do you understand now?//~~_

_\\No. But I'm not at my best right now.\\_ Qui-Gon's face was beginning to swell and throb. He tasted blood on his lips.

_~~//You will. Only compassion can sustain you in the Force, as you call it. It is your living anchor beyond death. As it is for you now.//~~_

The pressure of Yoda's claws and the grip on his hair left him. The little Master was heavier than he looked, especially sitting on a person's neck and shoulders.

_\\Is it easier for you to speak to those who are incapacitated?\\_ The shock had left him and he was really feeling his injuries, including an emerging headache. He had not thought he had struck his head when he fell.

The sense of amusement came again, warm sunshine felt from inside. _~~//It would appears so. You have all you need to know, Jedi Qui-Gon. It is within you. With time and experience, it will come.//~~_ The presence left him.

So did Master Yoda, thankfully. The small body climbed down and Qui-Gon realized the dark weight of the Force had dissipated as well. He felt weariness and enormous sadness; the shaman's presence was gone from the room.

Yoda stayed close. Kneeling, he bent over Qui-Gon's head. Qui-Gon felt wetness on his hair.

"Sorry, I am," Yoda said, his voice cracking more than usual. Those dangerous clawed hands gently stroked his hair now. Near disaster was gone, and possibly it had never really been that close after all. Or, Qui-Gon wondered, if it was just too terrible to contemplate.

Qui-Gon moved. He had to. His eye was swelling shut. Yoda sat back as he lifted his head and he raised himself up on his elbows; one of them was tender and bruised. Yoda sat next to him, his ears down in shame now, his large eyes heartbroken. Closer to the small Master's eye level, Qui-Gon recalled a time many years ago when he looked at Master Yoda from that height, standing. His own Padawan and Master had similar memories along with every Jedi in the Temple. Generation after generation of younglings had been nurtured by this ancient and powerful being, his strength always expressed through his wisdom and kindness and an occasional prod of his stick. But never, ever with a blow.

Yoda slowly shook his head. "Aggravating, you are," he said, though his expression was still terribly shamed as he tilted his head to view the damage. Qui-Gon licked blood off his lip and it stung.

"Your petition to the Council, I will not deny. Many faults in myself, I see now." This last was almost a whisper with Yoda's eyes cast downward.

Qui-Gon dragged himself up to sit on the ground. His knees were bruised, too. Then he reached out and drew the small Master to him.

Yoda climbed up onto his leg and settled next to his body, one long ear scrunched upward against him. It looked terribly uncomfortable to Qui-Gon, but Yoda did not seem to mind. He laid his hand over the small body; it was cool to touch, but not cold. Qui-Gon thought of the long embrace that Obi-Wan had greeted him with, when he could only stand there with his Padawan clinging to him. He could not bear to push him away then, even though he had come to his room intending to be firm with him about attachments.

Compassion and passion. They seemed so close at the moment, entwined and inseparable. One was immortality, the other, terrible destruction. He felt as if he had come close to losing something infinitely precious.

Neither Jedi Master moved for a long time. The small body pressed next to him warmed from Qui-Gon's body heat. The little arms and little legs hardly moved, but eventually one of Yoda's ears twitched and he lifted his head toward the door.

"Go I must," he said before climbing down and letting Qui-Gon's large hand partially support him as he lowered himself to the ground. He reached for his gimer stick and it flew to his hand. Qui-Gon watched him slowly walk to his float chair, the stick tapping on the floor the only sound in the room. He climbed on and sat down. He looked back, his eyes still forlorn.

"Consider your petition, the Council will. Contact you, they will, when they are ready."

The chair lifted in the air and the door slid open for it. A flash of white ducked back as it exited and quickly sped away. But the door stayed open. First a foot appeared, then a head and then a whole body and open-mouthed surprise.

Obi-Wan stared back at him.

**- - - End Part 7 - - -**


	8. Chapter 8

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 8 - - -**

Shocked, Obi-Wan did not know what to do. When Qui-Gon had failed to show up for third meal, he had gone looking for him. But when he had seen the door panel indicating that he was with Yoda, he dared not interrupt, so he lurked outside, waiting.

Qui-Gon sat on the floor, half his face bruised, his eye red and swollen, blood on his lip and dribbled down into his beard. Obi-Wan turned back toward the hall, but Yoda was already gone. It looked like. . . .

His thoughts halted at the obvious conclusion.

Qui-Gon did not move or speak. He looked defeated and he was wounded. Obi-Wan walked in and stood next to him, but Qui-Gon did not look up.

"I can help you to the Med Center, " Obi-Wan offered. Not 'What happened?' or 'Did Yoda. . .?'

Qui-Gon's deep blue eyes found his and he nodded.

Obi-Wan offered his hand and then braced himself when the much taller and larger man really leaned his weight on him. Qui-Gon fumbled with his robe with one hand before managing to pull the hood up over his injuries. They left the chamber together.

In the Med-Center reception room, the droid behind the desk drew back, its glowing yellow eye sensor blinking in surprise after Qui-Gon pulled back his hood and announced, "I have an injury." They were ushered inside immediately.

Passing through well-lit pastel corridors, they attracted little attention from droids, staff, patients and visitors. Eyes alighted on them only briefly before moving on to other things. The unspoken etiquette of the Med-Center squelched most visible curiosity.

Leading them to a treatment room, the protocol droid introduced them to TS-4A, a black and silver medical droid with multiple arms and attachments and a soft, low voice. Qui-Gon lay on the examination table to be scanned. They were alone, occupying only one of three treatment bays, the other two TS-4 units were inactive.

Obi-Wan watched the colored outlines of body and flesh form on the screen. Flashing, the image expanded into rapidly shifting details. Bruises, a cut lip, minor head trauma, but otherwise external injuries only. The droid noted changes in blood flow from Qui-Gon's own conscious Force healing. Even so, his face was red and bloated with emerging areas of purple and black, his left eye nearly shut. TS-4 asked him to sit up to remove his clothes.

The droid only clicked and beeped in response to Qui-Gon's single word answer to the question about the source of his injuries, "Fighting."

Qui-Gon untied his hair and Obi-Wan helped him remove his boots and robe, belt, obi, tabards and tunic. Obi-Wan laid each item down on a side shelf; he neatly folded the clothing. Removing shirt and pants revealed a long series of very small, round bruises running up Qui-Gon's right arm to his shoulder. There was also a larger bruise on his neck. His left elbow and his knees were bruised, but not badly. A small assistant droid arrived with a soft, pale green covering. Qui-Gon put it on and TS-4 draped it, leaving the injured arm exposed.

With an array of instruments on a tray, TS-4 began preparing a bandage shell to cover Qui-Gon's face with one set of its arms while with another arm it dabbed a bacta gel on Qui-Gon's lip and wiped the dried blood from his beard. Obi-Wan backed away, but Qui-Gon's hand reached out toward him. Obi-Wan took it. It felt uncomfortable at first, the large hand clasping and completely covering his own. But Obi-Wan moved closer. He felt a strength, a controlled peace that normally only came to him when he meditated or trained with Qui-Gon, a subtle shared feeling through the Force. But his sense of Qui-Gon's injuries felt muffled and distant.

Thump-a, clack-a. Thump-a, clack-a. The familiar noise disturbed the humming efficiency of the Med Center.

Master Doombas, Ee-Ida, wide-eyed behind him, came around to look over TS-4A's shoulder as it worked, dabbing bacta gel onto Qui-Gon's bruised cheek.

"What happened to you?" he asked in greeting, his hairy face showing as much surprise as his Padawan.

"I submitted my petition to the Council," Qui-Gon replied without moving his head. "Master Yoda rejected it."

Doombas drew back, his mouth open but apparently speechless. Obi-Wan had a feeling that this was a rare condition for the man. Worried, Ee-Ida looked back and forth between the two Masters.

Finally, Doombas folded his arms before him, his hip and knee whirring with the motion to re-balance his body weight.

"Yoda did that," he said.

Qui-Gon exhaled. The droid continued working on his face. Obi-Wan tightened his grip and laid his other hand over his Master's. He felt a responding pressure from Qui-Gon.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, finally stating the obvious.

Doombas stood back from the droid, looking over Qui-Gon's injuries.

"Looks like he went right up your arm and latched onto the back of your neck. From there he could bash your face into the wall as much as he liked." Ee-Ida cringed upon hearing this appraisal.

"The floor actually," Qui-Gon corrected calmly. Obi-Wan rubbed the back of Qui-Gon's hand and his Master's tight grip loosened a bit.

"The bigger they are, the further the fall," Doombas muttered to himself. "For both of you." Then his eyes scowled at TS-4A's patient. "That's quite an accomplishment, even for you."

"It is not one of which I am proud, I assure you." Qui-Gon looked sad and resigned.

"Then what happened?" Doombas pressed.

"Yoda apologized," he said as if this was obvious. "I accepted it. And my petition will be heard by the Council."

"That's not the only thing that's coming up before the Council now."

Obi-Wan tensed. What would happen to Qui-Gon? To Yoda? But Doombas's next statement answered these questions.

"Well, you both settled it there. So, you've got that in your favor. But that petition of yours is going to get extra attention. I hope it's a good one."

The pressure on Obi-Wan's hand briefly increased before Qui-Gon answered.

"It is."

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

Qui-Gon crushed the wafers into his broth before picking up his eating scoop. He had little appetite, but he and Obi-Wan had missed third meal and he could eat the soup more easily with half his face immobilized under a healing mask.

He brushed his long hair back over his shoulders before tasting the first scoopful. Obi-Wan set next to him with his own meal. He had only been testing his food, waiting, even though Qui-Gon had told him to begin. However, once his Master began eating Obi-Wan's plate began to empty more quickly.

They sat together at a small gray table in the Med-Center dining hall. No one else was there. Two service droids waited at the far end of the room. Chairs, tables, floors, walls, plants, everything was colored in shades of gray and smelled generically of warm food and sterile surfaces.

Qui-Gon had chosen to stay in the Med-Center for the few hours of his healing, until the mask was removed. Otherwise, he would just have to go to his room and return anyway. He did not have the energy for either covering up his bandaged face or explaining what it was for. He had re-dressed himself completely after TS-4A finished treating his surface injuries. Qui-Gon did not wish to wander the corridors half-clothed and carrying his things.

He ate without thinking, his mind abraded by recent events and unwilling to take in anything else. Qui-Gon supposed that this could be from the medication TS-4A had given him for the head trauma and to accelerate his healing. Some Jedi Masters preferred to rely on their own bodily disciplines and the Force for minor healings. But head traumas tended to get in the way of that, plus droids and medicine were always faster. His bruises would heal in a few days; the swelling was already gone. But his headache did not feel truly gone, only covered up by the medicine.

The scoop clinked in his bowl and he looked down to find it nearly empty. When he drank down the last of his juice, he caught Obi-Wan watching him. Then he stared down at the brown square of Obi-Wan's desert, the only thing left not devoured by his Padawan.

"Would you like some?" he asked eagerly, nudging the plate toward him.

Qui-Gon held up a hand, warding it away. "No, thank-you."

Then Qui-Gon suddenly felt weary of the silence. "How did your studies in the Archive go?" he asked, remembering that this was what he had intended to speak with Obi-Wan about during third meal. Obi-Wan looked surprised, but he began describing what he had learned about Padawans whose Masters had died, plus the data searches that Ee-Ida had suggested. Qui-Gon mentioned the few Jedi he knew whose Masters had died. While he spoke, Obi-Wan listened and gobbled up his desert.

"I am pleased to hear that Ee-Ida could help," he said. Obi-Wan thanked him for sending her.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Master Doombas sent her." He smiled. "After he slapped me when he found out I had sent you alone." Obi-Wan looked shocked, but Qui-Gon shook his head carefully, mindful of his injury. And his head would only move sluggishly anyway. "He did no harm. And that is just Doombas's way of getting a person's attention. I would prefer it to having him yelling. He can be extremely loud." Qui-Gon chuckled to himself. Doombas had always been loud, even as a big older Initiate in the Temple Creche.

Obi-Wan's look of worry remained.

"You have something else to add, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and asked, "I was hoping that we might be able to discuss my dreams, when you were gone."

Qui-Gon felt like cold water had been dumped over his slow-moving thoughts. He had not had time to discuss Obi-Wan's dreams with Yoda before their argument broke out. Of course, Obi-Wan's dreams were likely related to Qui-Gon's meditations with the Whill shaman. The great distance between them was nothing to the Force. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan's mind had fixated on their relationship to death, but parts of what he had described reminded him of the expansive sense of the whole universe he had felt through the shaman, though Qui-Gon did not know what to make of the giant head dream. That seemed to be composed more of Obi-Wan's random imaginings than anything else.

There was really no way to say what the connection might be between his communication with the Whill shaman, his bond with Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan's apparent reaction to it. Connections like that had no clear cause and effect; they could be enmeshed in any number of shifting possibilities along with the moods of the people involved.

"Do you feel as if your dreams have passed?" he asked. Obi-Wan nodded.

"Dreams pass with time, Obi-Wan," he advised.

"But I was hoping that now you could tell me how they might. . . .have been. . . ." Obi-Wan's words trailed off, his eyes now a bit fearful. Qui-Gon did not change his own cold expression. He had told Obi-Wan before leaving that he was being sent on a priority mission for the Council. Obi-Wan knew well that this was all he would be told about it. Anything about it, including the purpose, would only be discussed with the Council and the Masters they consulted with.

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes. "Yes, Master," he mumbled down to his empty plate. Obi-Wan knew and understood the reasons why Padawans and even Knights were not included in some affairs of the Council and senior members of the Jedi Order; Qui-Gon was sure of that. Even if Obi-Wan were of an age and experience to comprehend the mysteries of the Force that Qui-Gon had shared with the Whills, it was information only for the most serious discussions between Jedi Masters..

Qui-Gon put his napkin on his plate. "I believe we are finished." He got up. Obi-Wan pushed his chair back, the plastoid legs scraping on the spotless floor. One of the droids was already moving to clear their table as they exited.

Standing in the wide corridor, Qui-Gon looked in one direction, then the other, not quite sure which way to go. TS-4A had assigned a room where he could rest until the healing mask would be taken off, but he wasn't quite sure where it was. He turned left.

"Master. . . .?" Obi-Wan had not moved, but he gestured in the other direction. Nodding, he went that way, but at the next intersection, he let Obi-Wan lead. They arrived at a hallway of doors to private rooms and then at the one assigned for him. It was spotless, scentless and muted blue inside, and as small as a cheap starship cabin, but perfect for a few hours of rest. Qui-Gon put his robe on a hook, unclipped his lightsaber, belt pouches and other things and put them on the shelf over the sleep couch. He considered taking his boots and belt off, but he did not feel like going to so much effort. He sat down.

Obi-Wan looked up at him from the room's single chair, next to the head of the sleep couch. Qui-Gon lowered his eyes.

There really was no reason for Obi-Wan to stay with him, but it felt wrong to send him away. Qui-Gon lay down on the sleep couch. His thoughts unfinished, he stared upward at the plain ceiling and the light coverings along the edges. Next to him, he sensed Obi-Wan on the verge of speaking. There was too much unsaid between them. Too much that could not to be spoken of.

"You have something to say, Obi-Wan," he said, still staring at the ceiling.

He heard Obi-Wan shift in his chair, fabric rubbing on plastoid.

"I am sorry I caused so much trouble for you, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled at that, though the healing mask pressed into his face when he moved it too much. "You think I am incapable of causing my own trouble?"

"Uh, no, um. . . ." Qui-Gon continued to smile as Obi-Wan stammered over how to reply. But he would not have Obi-Wan taking any blame for his confrontation with Yoda.

"You did well with your research in the Archive today," he reassured him, changing the subject.

"Thank you, Master."

"And I think I will need your assistance tomorrow, researching something else that I have a great need to know more about. Though we may need to look carefully to find much about it in Jedi knowledge."

"I will help any way I can, but what is this research about?"

"Compassion," he answered, his eyes still staring upward.

**- - - End Part 8 - - -**


	9. Chapter 9

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 9 - - -**

_We had beaten them badly in our last battle. They were scattered and weak and they hated themselves for it. But after many days it was agreed in the council to give mercy. We let them into the oasis and into the shelter of the caves, so they would not starve, or die of thirst, or burn under the cruel radiation of the four suns._

_In less than one sleep cycle, the Sith had revived enough to attack us and kill four of us, including Peta-Dah who had argued strongest against mercy. . . ._

Obi-Wan sat back in his chair in the Archive. He supposed that this could be considered an example of compassion, but it really looked more like bad judgement to him. He noted it as such and moved on to the next except from Qui-Gon's chaotic list.

He sat at a single terminal in an alcove amidst the glowing data stacks that towered above him toward the ceiling. Across the wide aisle, in his own alcove, Qui-Gon sat at his own terminal. Stacks of data cylinders, blocks, flat disks, rectangular chits, spheres and a few other shapes cluttered the desk on top of a scattering of flimsies. His hand tapping the control pad, Qui-Gon looked focused, his expression intense in the bluish glow of the shifting images on his screen. Obi-Wan sighed, thinking about what his Master would pick out to be sifted through later.

Obi-Wan felt some relief that he had been able to impose a little order and boundaries on what they were doing. With a poorly defined goal of studying compassion, plus Qui-Gon using the Force to guide his research, they had a huge mess by their second day. Obi-Wan had rebelled and the Archivists backed him up. Qui-Gon had relented and agreed to stick to some priorities for his data searches and categorized the things he passed on to Obi-Wan for review. But Qui-Gon added his own version of rebellion by constantly making up new categories as he went.

Obi-Wan did not think that he was being deliberately contrary; Qui-Gon just had not settled on what he was really looking for. But Qui-Gon did at least confirm that this research was personal and not an assignment for the Council. Obi-Wan had hinted that possibly it was related to Qui-Gon's physical conflict with Master Yoda. Qui-Gon had hinted back that this might be so. Obi-Wan had let the matter drop. He did not wish to get in the middle of a private conflict between his Master and Yoda.

Obi-Wan smiled to himself. He would help his Master in this personal task, ill-defined as it was, out of compassion.

He flicked through several more entries, culled from completely different and unrelated areas of Jedi history. But a motion across the aisle caught his eye.

Qui-Gon left his terminal. Surprised, Obi-Wan turned his head to see where he was going, but his Master vanished down the aisle. The data stacks blocked Obi-Wan's veiw.

It was too early for second meal and it was unlikely that Qui-Gon would interrupt his research just to go to the refresher. Like all Jedi Masters, Qui-Gon could use the Force to go for many hours without needing to pee, a capacity on which Obi-Wan worked hard in his own disciplines and training just to keep up with Qui-Gon, especially on long missions.

A moment later, Qui-Gon reappeared with one of the Archivist, an older woman named Jocasta Nu. She looked from Qui-Gon to his cluttered terminal and scowled.

"Master Qui-Gon, the Archivists are _not_ here to clean up after whatever it is you've been up to," she admonished, her tone severe, her lined face harsh.

Qui-Gon softly apologized and bowed and then turned to Obi-Wan.

"We have been summoned by the Council, Obi-Wan," he said in a quiet voice.

Obi-Wan started and then quickly marked and saved his own data files. He got up from his spotless desk and followed Qui-Gon. Standing over Qui-Gon's abandoned desk, her hands full, Jocasta Nu followed them with her glare.

They exited the Archive. Obi-Wan looked for calm inside himself as they walked immense corridors of the Jedi Temple toward the lifts that would take them up to the Council spire. He had trouble finding it.

The Jedi Council must have made their decision on Qui-Gon's grievances against Master Yoda. Though Qui-Gon had sternly denied it, Obi-Wan still felt as though he was the source of the conflict between Qui-Gon and Yoda. Certainly his actions had started everything. But Obi-Wan had done as Qui-Gon instructed and not speculated on what this final conclusion would be. He had happily not thought about conflict at all since he had left the med center with Qui-Gon when three Council members had intercepted them.

Obi-Wan now recalled the brief looks of surprise on the faces of Mace Windu, Ki-Adi Mundi and Oppo Rancisis. Though partially healed, Qui-Gon's face, black and purple on one side, looked its worst then. He had straightened and calmly answered their minimal questions. Then they had unnerved Obi-Wan by asking to speak to him privately. Though Master Windu and Master Mundi spoke only kindly, Obi-Wan had been embarrassed that he could not control his own discomfort answering their questions, and he knew they could see it in him. After the interview Qui-Gon had sent him away while he spoke to the Council members privately.

Obi-Wan had heard nothing about the Council's deliberations since then and he had not asked about them either.

The two of them reached the lift and entered. It was empty.

"Calm, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him.

"Yes, Master," he answered automatically without really feeling it.

The lift arrived at the top of the Council tower of the Temple. Obi-Wan properly folded his arms before him into the sleeves of his robe. He and Qui-Gon exited the lift and crossed the ante-chamber. The huge gray door did not open for them, so they stood there, waiting until the Jedi Council was ready for them.

Obi-Wan had suggested to his Master that he withdraw his original petition since Yoda had apologized, at least for striking him, but Qui-Gon refused. 'You must be firm about your authority as a Master, Obi-Wan,' he had instructed. 'Our confrontation does not alter my objections to Yoda's actions toward you.' Obi-Wan accepted this, but now, waiting for the Council's judgement, he wished to be finished and past the whole business. He had thought he had wrung out all the emotion he had from it, but now he could feel them creeping back anew.

Next to him, Qui-Gon, his face now completely healed, looked a bit too serene. 'Do not anticipate,' Qui-Gon had said, when Obi-Wan asked what would happen to Master Yoda. Thinking about it, Obi-Wan realized that he had no energy left in him to wonder what would happen next. Was that the key to acceptance? Being so weary of something so you had no strength left to wonder about it anymore? Obi-Wan hoped not.

The doors parted. They entered the Council chamber. Through the room's wide windows, it was a bright, sunny day, shining down over the gray city-planet spread out below the Temple. Qui-Gon took his place in the center of the room, Obi-Wan just behind him, on his right. They both bowed.

"Master Qui-Gon, we are first to address the matter of your petition against Master Yoda," Ki-Adi Mundi began in his gentle voice, inclining his tall head toward them. Obi-Wan heard feet and claws slapping the floor, but he resisted the urge to turn his head. Yoda tapped forward on his stick to stand next to Qui-Gon.

"For the charge of not informing Master Qui-Gon of his Padawan's distress during his absence," Mundi began, "the Council partially agrees with Master Qui-Gon. While the Council reserves the right to decide what communications may be sent during priority missions, Master Yoda did not inform the rest of the Council of his decision. This contributed to the later confusion caused by Padawan Kenobi's request to Master Yaddle."

Obi-Wan's eyes went toward Yaddle's chair, but Qui-Gon blocked his view, and he dared not lean forward to look. Was she angry at him? At Yoda? All around him, he sensed a ring of judges, but no specific thoughts.

"For the charge of Master Yoda offering inadequate guidance to Padawan Kenobi during Master Qui-Gon's absence," Mundi continued, "the Council partially agrees with Master Qui-Gon. Padawan Kenobi first sought out Master Yoda's advice, which was sensible and adequate. However, Master Yoda forbid that he communicate with Master Qui-Gon which, again, should have been a decision of the whole Council." Master Mundi emphasized the word 'whole' with this statement.

"For the charge of Master Yoda denying Padawan Kenobi the counsel of others, the Council finds no merit. We have found no evidence that Master Yoda interfered with Padawan Kenobi's attempts to seek any other counsel in the Temple."

Obi-Wan's eyes went to Qui-Gon, who remained immobile and expressionless, as were all the Jedi Masters seated around them.

"And for the charge of Master Yoda disciplining Padawan Kenobi without authority, the Council finds wholly in favor of Master Qui-Gon. While Padawan Kenobi's actions were ill-considered, Master Yoda had not informed the whole Council about Padawan Kenobi's requests to contact Master Qui-Gon in the first place."

Obi-Wan felt everyone's attention on him each time his name was spoken. Mundi looked downward.

"You have heard the judgement of this Council, Master Yoda. How do you reply?"

Yoda's aged and nearly bald head nodded forward. "Accept, I do, this judgement."

Mundi looked up. "And do you accept as well, Master Qui-Gon?"

"I do, my Masters."

Mundi nodded his head. The other Masters moved, tilted heads, relaxed shoulders, glanced at one another. Obi-Wan let his breath out.

Yoda turned and tapped a few steps to stand before Obi-Wan. Surprised, he stared down at the old Master whose large green eyes looked up to him.

"Sorry, I am. Proud I was, to think that I should teach you better than your Master." Yoda bowed his head and sighed before looking up again. "Saw fault I did, in your concern for Master Qui-Gon. But blind I was to fault in myself."

Obi-Wan did not know what to do. Was he supposed to speak? Why did Yoda not apologize to Qui-Gon instead? Had Qui-Gon asked for this? Obi-Wan had not read the petition.

He stared down at the small green Master at his feet. Everyone on the Council stared at them. Qui-Gon was looking at them. All the emotions he had though were dried up inside him flooded back into life again.

Obi-Wan knelt down, closer to Yoda's level.

"Thank-you," he said, his voice barely audible. He felt miserable again. This summons before the Council was turning out to be far worse than he had imagined. Yoda tapped forward. One clawed hand reached up and Obi-Wan laid his hand in between the rough, blunt fingers.

"The Force is with you, young Obi-Wan," Yoda said, his aged, raspy voice low, meant only for him. He could feel it, a sense of heat and lightness radiating out from his hand, like the sunlight outside, rich with centuries of emotions that did not weigh him down, but renewed his strength. Obi-Wan looked into those large green eyes and they now seemed very young to him.

"Feel it you do," Yoda smirked.

Obi-Wan nodded, mute with the dawning sense that his past anguish would not dry up his heart, but bear him forward. To combine with new hurts, he supposed.

A hand lay on his shoulder, bringing with it a different sense of warmth from the Force. Qui-Gon. His recent anguish suddenly connected with the hours he had spent with Qui-Gon hunting in the Archives for compassion in the Annals of the Jedi Order. They were small and inconspicuous, but they were everywhere, sprinkled in among the tales of heroic deeds; innocents saved at great risk, shared resources, even enemies befriended and turned. Amidst his Padawan's confusion about what their purpose was, Qui-Gon had been very pleased. Obi-Wan felt that again now.

Yoda smiled. He took his hand away and turned back toward his fellow Council members. Obi-Wan stood. Qui-Gon's hand lingered on his back before they all resumed their stances again.

"By agreement of all Council members, Master Yoda is publicly barred for the next year from issuing any directives in the interests of the Council at all. In that time, it is hoped that we will all come to understand what those directives truly are," Mundi concluded. Heads nodded to the other seated Council members and Obi-Wan gratefully felt the hearing coming to an end.

"And now, for the matter of the Master Yoda's physical abuse of Master Qui-Gon," Mundi began again.

Obi-Wan tensed. He had hoped that this would not be part of this meeting since Yoda and Qui-Gon had apologized to each other about it.

"You have communicated that there was more to say about this, Master Qui-Gon?" Mundi asked, his tone only curious. The other Council members also had questioning expressions and Yoda turned to look up at the tall Master next to him.

"Yes, my Master. It concerns my recent researches in the Archive."

Mundi and the other Masters seemed to understand what this meant, but Obi-Wan was completely baffled.

"Aaah." Mundi nodded, then turned toward Obi-Wan.

"You are excused now, Padawan."

Not quite understanding what he had just heard, Obi-Wan stared stupidly back. Their research in the Archive? Should he stay for that? Qui-Gon nudged him. Obi-Wan turned his head.

"I will call on you when we are finished, Obi-Wan," his Master assured him.

Obi-Wan finally understood and hastily bowed to the Council. He hurried out. But he turned to see Qui-Gon standing alone in the center of the sunlit Council room, before the gray doors slid closed again.

**- - - End Part 9 - - -**


	10. Chapter 10

**JEDI DREAMING**

by: ardavenport

**- - - Part 10 - - -**

Qui-Gon exited the Council room sometime later. The Jedi Council remained to discuss among themselves what they had spoken of.

He entered the lift and descended.

They doubted him. That the Whill shaman had spoken to him one last time after had Yoda had attacked him. Qui-Gon supposed that they had sufficient reason. The med-center had reported head trauma as one of Qui-Gon's injuries. None of the other Jedi on their mission had sensed anything at that time. Plus a shared meditation with the Council had failed to clarify anything, other than Qui-Gon's certainty of what he had heard and experienced.

Yoda, his thoughts clouded with the pleasure of slamming Qui-Gon's head into the floor, had not sensed anything at the time. Yoda had freely admitted this, and spoke up for the possibility that Qui-Gon had really communed the shaman. But he had not done so with any conviction that what Qui-Gon reported was true, only that his story should be impartially heard.

The lift doors opened and Qui-Gon stepped into a long corridor. Other Jedi passed by him.

Qui-Gon contacted Obi-Wan and told him he would meet him at fourth meal.

"Did your meeting go well?"

Qui-Gon sensed his Padawan's curiosity in his tone, in the most general, unobtrusive way he could ask about what had happened with the Council.

"It did." He signed off, the abruptness of his reply being his own way of tacitly saying that this would be all that would be spoken about it.

Qui-Gon regretted the necessity of excluding Obi-Wan at this time, after he had been so sorely used by Yoda. But Qui-Gon could see no alternative. Obi-Wan was too young and had neither the temperament nor discipline to comprehend what the Whill shaman had communicated to him. Qui-Gon doubted that most Jedi Masters had such wisdom, including himself. But he would pursue the Whill's wisdom anyway, when he could, when time allowed, for however many years he would have for it, with the Force his guide. Qui-Gon may have questioned his own abilities, but he did not doubt the Force.

Returning to his room. Qui-Gon went to the refresher and then checked his com. Aside from the usual Temple announcements (including one about Yoda's limited status on the Council) there was a personal message from Lidi Mah, a request to meet with him.

Qui-Gon puzzled over the name for a moment until he remembered Obi-Wan mentioning his neighbor who wanted advice about choosing a Padawan. He commed her. She answered immediately and he introduced himself.

"I am available until fourth meal, if you wish to meet to discuss your choice."

She named a place in the Creche and he agreed. Putting away his com and shrugging back into his robe again, he left, feeling pleased to be going to advise someone on a simple activity of living.

**o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o \-O-O-/ o-o /O-O-O\ o-o**

"Oooh, here he comes!"

Ee-Ida jumped back, extinguishing her lightsaber. Garen and Obi-Wan turned to where she was looking. Their lightsabers went out as well.

Thump-a-clak-a. Thump-a-clak-a.

The noise from Doombas's leg and hip grew as he approached the training arena next to the Padawans'. Yoda kept pace with him in his float chair. When he finally arrived, he scowled at Qui-Gon and Clee Rhara, who waited there. Yoda's float chair descended to the ground and he climbed out.

"Begin we should," Yoda announced. He nodded to both Clee and Qui-Gon before hobbling into the training circle. "Master Qui-Gon, assist me you can."

The Padawans watched Qui-Gon and Clee exchange looks before the tall man went to stand with Yoda, facing Doombas, who recoiled at the pair of them.

"I have to start this with the two best swords-persons in the Order? Can't I just jump off the center spire of the Temple instead?"

"Training this is, only, Master Doombas. Out of practice, you are," Yoda said with a gesture and a smile.

The Padawans watched as Doombas unhappily unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. But from the training arenas around them, Obi-Wan noticed a few more gazes directed their way, though he could not be sure if they were curious about Doombas's first lightsaber training since his injury, or about Qui-Gon and Yoda.

Doombas noticed them, as well.

"You two are attracting attention." He pointed at his opponents. Both Yoda and Qui-Gon looked as if they had no idea of what he was speaking about. But Qui-Gon made the mistake of saying something.

"I do not know to what your are referring."

"Of course not," Doombas sneered. "No more than back when you were a scrawny kid and one of the creche Masters caught you peeing in the pond in the garden." Qui-Gon started. Obi-Wan did as well, with renewed interest toward his Master.

"Cautious with your words you should be," Yoda warned, his tone ominously friendly. "Much could be said of you as well."

Doombas wisely did not reply, but he found a new target.

"I'm not seeing a lot of training going on over there, Padawans," he bellowed. Garen, Obi-Wan and Ee-Ida jumped. Doombas waved at the red-haired woman watching. "Go keep them busy. I don't need that much of an audience for this."

Smirking, Clee strolled over toward the next arena, but she kept her eyes on the three Masters behind her.

Yoda stepped back. Qui-Gon faced Doombas, activated his lightsaber and saluted. Doombas did the same. Qui-Gon took a ready stance; Doombas was supposed to copy him as well as he could with his artificial leg, but Doombas did not move. He stared forward, up and down the length of his blue blade.

Obi-Wan saw his Master make a face before taking the next stance.

Doombas ignored him. He tilted the blade to either side, testing its weight. He let it fall to the side and he easily brought it around in a full circle. Qui-Gon ducked away from it, skipping backward, exasperated. Sighing and shaking his head, Yoda sat down on the ground.

Qui-Gon's bright green blade went out, but his look of annoyance softened. He stepped forward and laid his hand on Doombas's arm. Obi-Wan strained to hear, but he could only make out the tone of the voices with no words. Next to him Ee-Ida strained to hear as well.

"Garen," Clee spoke up. "And you two." Obi-Wan and Ee-Ida turned and followed Clee into the center of their arena. Obi-Wan took one last look toward his Master. He could not hear the words but he could read the expression, compassion.

Qui-Gon had said nothing about what he had spoken of with the Council about his research, and Obi-Wan knew he could not ask. Qui-Gon said he still had much more to do. Obi-Wan, normally was impatient with Archives learning, did not mind working on this project with Qui-Gon.

Clee paired Obi-Wan and Garen together while she began a form with Ee-Ida. Obi-Wan and Garen practiced a two-person form. They both had to concentrate because Qui-Gon on Clee taught the it differently. Through the Force they anticipated the variations and after their third execution the form became something different from what either Master taught.

Both pleased with the result, they paused. Obi-Wan's gaze immediately went to the next arena where now, both Yoda and Qui-Gon advanced together with Doombas in the same series of strikes and parries. Doombas's hairy face was fierce with concentration.

"Do you still have those dreams?" Garen asked, his features concerned. Garen and Clee had only returned from their long mission that morning.

Surprised, Obi-Wan blinked back. He had forgotten about them and the intense visions of Qui-Gon's sudden death. He shook his head.

"No," he answered. The memory of his nightmares remained, but the emotion had flowed away and been replace by other events. "They're gone."

**o-o /O-O-O\ . . .END. . . /O-O-O\ o-o**

(This story was first posted on tf.n: 1-May-2007)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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